TheAutobiographyOfAGermanRebel

Foiu Sender

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY
OF A GERMAN REBEL

With a Preface If

The Rt. Hon. HERBERT MORRISON,

LONDON

GEORGE ROUTLEDGE & SONS, LTD.

BRO.AD WAY HOUSE, 68-74 CARTER LANE, E.G.4

First puBlished in England, 1940

Printed in Great Britain by Butler & Taimer Ltd., Frome and London

CONTEIn[TS

Preface by the Rt. Hon. Herbert

Morrison, M.P. . .

•

vii

I

Girlhood in the Germany of the

Kaiser

i

II

Paris : Prelude to the World War

•

24

III

Fighting for Peace in Wartime Germany

5^

IV

The Eve of Revolt

•

•

81

V

Days of Revolution

•

99

VI

Counter-Revolt: The Kapp Putsch

123

VII

A Member of the Reichstag
Twenties .

in

My

149

VIII

Enforced Retreat .

171

IX

Return to the Struggle

182

X

Years in the Reichstag .

216

XI

The New Barbarians appear .

261

XII

Escape from Terror

280

XIII

Rededigation . . . .

295

PREFACE

by the

Rt. Hon. Herbert Morrison, M.P.

''The Autobiography of a German Rebel'' is
more than an autobiography. It is, I am inclined to
think, the best study of post-war Germany from the
Socialist point of view that I have read.

Toni Sender, as organizer and journalist, did fine
work for the Trade Unions and the Social Democratic
Party of Germany from her very early years, and was
personally known to many British Socialists and Trade
Union leaders as a participant in international con¬
ferences. A Social Democrat, she later joined the
German anti-war Independent Socialist Party and
became a member of the Reichstag. When the
Independent Socialist Party was captured by the
Communists, she, with her Socialist friends who did
not believe in dictatorship, returned to the Social
Democratic Party. For many years she was a prom¬
inent member of the German Reichstag. It was only
when her life was in actual danger that she escaped
from the Nazi authorities in the night, the alternative
being torture and death at their hands. Twice, hard
work and the privations of post-war Germany caused
T.B. and brought her near to death. She is now in
America, where she is becoming an American citizen.

For the student of the art of Government, for the
friend of democracy and the opponent of Fascist

vii

Preface

dictatorship, for the Socialist who desires to see the
birth of a new world brought about by peaceful,
fundamental, constructive change, the story of post¬
war Germany is a story of the most profound import¬
ance. We should be wrong automatically to apply
the facts and the lessons of Germany’s post-war history
to our own or, indeed, to any other country. We can
legitimately generalize within broad limits about the
economic interpretation of the history of any country,
though even there, despite the high value of the
materialist conception of history to our understanding
of events, we have to take into account the particular
circumstances of time and country.

Germany, a great country with a proud people,
rich in art, scientific and technical knowledge, had
made an amazing fight against terrific odds in the
greatest war in human history, 1914-18. At last the
discipline of the German people—perhaps too much
discipline—^had been broken by economic suffering
and by decreasing faith in the Kaiser and the military
leaders. When the Armistice came, something in the
nature of a revolutionary condition existed in Germany,
but it was and is not certain whether it could have
been a decisive revolutionary situation. Over con¬
siderable areas of the country workers and soldiers’
councils were established, but it was doubtful whether
the soldiers in particular and large numbers of the
workers were ready for fundamental social as well as
poHtical change. Moreover, the capitalist Govern¬
ments of the Allied Powers were ready to jump on
them at any moment. The bourgeoisie and even the
aristocracy suddenly became very democratic in form.
They were ready for the workers to take the leading

Preface

part in getting rid of absolute monarchy ; some oi
them even sought admission to the soldiers and workers’
councils, but so far as Miss Sender was concerned she
resisted such admission. In any case it would appear
that the leadership of the Social Democratic Party
and the Trade Unions was, as a whole, unwilling for
the rapid fundamental change which was necessary if
Germany was to become a complete and permanent
democracy.

In parts of the country the workers and soldiers’
councils became real instruments of local government,
but as the new political order settled down, and after
elections had taken place, a bourgeois republic evolved
which remained a bourgeois republic despite the on
and off participation of the Socialists in the Govern¬
ment. The mistake was made of permitting a good
deal of the old and unsuitable political apparatus to
survive and a considerable proportion of the old un¬
democratic personnel to function. The result was
that much of the civil service, much of the military
command, and some of the police command, was
fundamentally unfaithful to the new political order.
The German Republic was nowhere near vigorous
enough in introducing big changes into the apparatus
of government and into the personnel of administration.
For what should have been happening was not so much
the peaceful succession of one Government by another
Government as the result of a general election, but the
building up of a new political order fundamentally
different from that of the days of the Kaiser. And
unfortunately, throughout wide circles of the political
elements of the new Germany, there was either not the
desire or the will or the iron determination to eliminate

rrejace

from the regime those features of the old which could
not peacefully live with the new for long. The moral
is : Think twice about having a revolution, but if you
are going to have one at all, see that it is adequate to
the occasion.

Decency, enlightenment and political foresight
among the leaders of the allied Powers could have
helped in the establishment of a new Germany which
could have been an almost certain guarantee of the
peace and friendship of the nations of Europe, although
we must not make the mistake of thinking that the
Treaty of Versailles was entirely responsible for the
triumph of Hitler. The German Government had
imposed upon Russia severe terms in the Treaty of
Brest-Litovsk, so that the reactionaries of Germany
had nothing to shout about. But Toni Sender, of the
international Socialists, who had kept the faith during
the war, had every right to utter on December i,
1918, words which to-day sound tragically prophetic :

The heavy burden that will follow the war can be
borne only by a society that has changed the entire
structure of the state. The inexorable armistice con¬
ditions are to be attributed not to the revolution but
to the unfortunate Treaty of Brest-Litovsk dictated
by the regime of the Kaiser. But the other side, those
who are now putting their feet on a defeated nation’s
neck, should not forget that a certain kind of victory
may imply defeat in the future.”

Over some years, splendid social work was done by
parliamentary and municipal institutions in Germany,
particularly perhaps by the local authorities. But the
evil influences continued their evil work. The central
Government tended to become less republican in

Preface

spirit and action. It tolerated unconstitutional resist¬
ance on the Right and crushed it on the Left, instead
of asserting its own authority and crushing resistance
to democratic authority all round. And then came,
on top of the weakness of the parhamentary leadership
and . the somewhat anaemic character of the new
Gernian democracy, economic collapse, fiuanrial
muddle—the terrible days of inflation, when millions
of marks were worth nothing and when the value of
money was hardly known from hour to homr.

Take warning from these events. Weakness in
democratic leadership, plus economic and financi al
muddle, may be the prelude to successful revolution
from the Left in what was an undeveloped and un¬
educated country like Russia, but it is more Hkely, if
persisted in, to lead to revolution from the Fascist
Right in educated, highly industrialized countries
with a big middle class, in countries like Germany,
particularly during years of special difficulty.

In due time government was less and less by the
Reichstag, more and more by decree. Democracy
was passing away, pardy because the people were
apparently not fit for it, partly from disuse, and partly
from conspiracies of the anti-democratic elements.
Private armies of all sorts were permitted to exist, a
fatal thing to tolerate in a democracy. Conspiracies
cropped up in the Army and the conspirators were
not smashed. And one of the greatest tragedies is
the fact that Moscow, at a crucial moment, sent its
delegates to Germany to split the Socialists and the
Trade Union Movement; and in the case of the
Socialists, but not the Unions, they succeeded only
too well. The Independent Sociahsts in return sent

Frejace

their representatives to Moscow, and successful efforts
were made to convert the majority of this party into a
branch of the Comintern. The politically ignorant
among the great capitalists became worse^ and worse.
They helped the Nazis in order to destroy the Sociahsts,
not having brains enough to see that they would get
their own troubles from the Nazis m due course
troubles they are now experiencing. _ The elements that
played into the hands of the Nazis were extensive :
die allied Governments, the rich industrialists, the
landowners, the desperate middle class, the equally
desperate unemployed, and—believe it_ or not—the
Communists, who were to the fore in trymg to destroy
democracy and who actuaUy co-operated with the
Nazis in a number of directions.

And now the Nazi regime has plunged Europe into
another terrible war, after blackmailing and destroy¬
ing the rights of certain small nations. It is an evil
thing, this Nazi regime, a public nuisance. It is a
danger to all countries as well as to the people m
Germany. It must come to an end. A new and
better Germany should receive justice and fair play
at the hands of the victors, but Germany—and^all
Other nations—should be given to understand that
under the new international order which should result
from this war no more militarist blackmail and

aggression will be tolerated.

Progressive and hberty-loving people of all types
are indebted to Miss Sender for this valuable volume.
I wish it all success.

HERBERT MORRISON.

London,

Ff ^ hruarv . IQAO.

I

GIRLHOOD IN THE GERMANY OF THE
KAISER

I MUST have been a very unpleasant child at home.
Some years ago, while exchanging childhood memories
with me, my sister Recha suddenly said, You
know, I cannot recall much about you in those days,
because you almost never talked.”

Individuahty develops when you are very young;
but it is not always felt as a blessing. It can be
confusing, disturbing. You don’t know where you
belong. An unconscious force seems to be driving
you away from those you love. At the same time,
you don’t know where to go. But better to err alone
than to be always guided, protected, ordered.

I must ask forgiveness of my parents for having
been such a very disagreeable little thing, so shy
and reserved in a gay home atmosphere. My parents
demanded unquestioning obedience, and if I had
conformed I might have been part of that warm
and kindly household in Biebrich. Father was a very
cheerful, humorous person, a real Rhinelander, loving
life. During his childhood and adolescence he had
spent years in France, for his father had been eager
to give him a thorough education. He loved the
Parisian atmosphere, and it was his dream, once

Toni Sender

life’s material struggle was concluded, to retire to
his beloved city. Alas—^it always remained a dream.
War and inflation prevented its realization.

In spite of this background, father had a strongly
authoritative attitude towards his children. His
methods of education were very strict. We had to
accept his authority unquestioningly. No contradic¬
tion was permitted. Besides, he was a deeply orthodox
Jew, for a number of years the president of the Jewish
con^egation, and he expected us to follow rigidly
in his path. During my childhood at home I hardly
talked with my father, except on those special Sundays
when he took us on an excursion to the Taunus
Motmtains, into the woods along the Rhine, or to
see the old castles. Then he was a good companion,
knowing his country well and enjoying wandering
though sunshine and beauty. Then I dared ask
him questions about the names of flowers, trees,
mountains, and creeks. An excellent climber, he
would always be at the head of our Httle caravan.
After hours of tramping he would lead us to some
quaint inn where we would unpack our provisions.
Mother always gave us plenty, and each of us could
order his favourite drink. Father would even join
us when we started singing folk-songs or marching
songs, and for all of us the hours were jolly ones—
until the gloomy days of submission and obedience
began again. ...

Mother never came with us. She preferred to stay
at home alone and enjoy its quiet. Bom in Switzer¬
land of a wealthy family which had come from France,
she was of a more pessimistic nature than my father/
She had lost her mother at a very early age, her father

Girlhood in the Germany of the Kaiser

had remarried, and she had had a rather difficult
time, which may have influenced her character. She
was a very intelligent and energetic person, a severe
mother, demanding absolute obedience—a demand
which was the root of much difficulty and man y
misunderstandings between us. I was ready to be
convinced, but never could endure being ordered.
In spite of this permanent inner revolt, I never doubted
that mother was aiming only at our happiness, and
I had full confidence in her kindness as well as in her
efficiency. Even when more difficult times and more
bitter discussions came, I never doubted her good
intentions and father’s. There was not a single week
in my life when I failed to write to them. All this
did not prevent me, in later years when I lived in
Frankfmrt and came to visit them for week-ends,
from sometimes leaving town secretly in the early
morning hours without a good-bye to anybody.
For we might have had, on the evening before, too
caustic a debate, in which my parents had refused
all my requests. Yet no sooner would I arrive in
Frankfurt than I would write them a friendly letter ;
the unpleasantness had hurt me more ffi a n it had
tiurt them.

There was one place I cherished throughout the
^ears_ of my childhood—the very old, big mulberry
.ree in our back yard with the even older garden
rouse. If I could only vanish by climbing into
he tree, dream and be undisturbed, I was completely
lappy. One day a peculiar thing happened. My
nother, our enterprising spirit, had decided to use
he very large grounds behind our home as a site for
i small apartment house. But then the old mulberry

Toni Sender

tree, being in the way, would have to be felled. An
orthodox Jew, however, may not fell a living tree—
anyone who has ever seen the treeless hills of Palestine
can understand this prohibition. What could be
done? My father was worried. But one night
there was a great storm. In the morning, when
my father went to the courtyard, he called to us,
and we all stood silent, amazed at the spectacle.
The old tree lay on the ground ; the storm had
uprooted it.

It was quite natural that we children were expected
to behave like the children of other respectable
middle-class families. What torture those Saturday
or Sunday promenades through the old park, with
its huge chestnut trees, its lake on which appeared
a procession of very haughty-looking swans, seemingly
as class-conscious as some of the people admiring
them! We were all very carefully dressed, and
were expected to return home as immaculate as
we had left. What a restraint for a very hvely child !
How she would have preferred to play with the
street urchins on Rhine Avenue or along the shores
of the river!

I did not appreciate the beauty of the mountain-
crowned banks of the Rhine or the charm of the old
park of the former Duke of Nassau, until many years
later when I had become entirely independent. One
cm live in a paradise and still not enjoy it, for the
air may be musty.

The best luck that could befall me on week-ends
was to have my father order me to stay at home, to
^e off my Sunday ckess, and to remain all by myself
in the house. What a wonderful punishment 1 To

Girlhood in the Germany of the Kaiser

be allowed to stay alone was all I would have wanted
to ask for if I had only dared !

My parents decided that I did not choose the right
kind of friends and companions. The children of
the wealthier families were as stiff as I was supposed
to be and therefore did not interest me. Those
with whom I could romp happened to be girls of
the less well-to-do families, most of them poor students.
But I deeply disliked the orderly pastimes of other
girls. When my sisters’ friends came, I always tried
to escape their games. How much better it was to
steal away to one of the attics, unseen by anybody.
There I knew of big boxes of books, some classics,
and the whole collection of the Gartenlaube, a family
magazine of fiction that must have been fascinating,
for I would forget to return to the lower floors until
the coroing twilight reminded me that it was time
to stop. I liked the attics for other reasons. There
I explored old costumes of my mother’s, old fumitme
of the family, and many other old things that might
serve for masquerade purposes, though the opportunity
never came. If I heard a noise, I vanished into
one of the big boxes and would not move. Often
I heard them calling me, but I never betrayed my
retreat.

Once, on a summer vacation, my parents sent me
with my older sister and my brother to the Black
Forest, where we stayed with relatives on a farm.
For the first time I enjoyed liberty. Although I
was only nine years old, I wrote my parents that
I wanted to stay there and go to school in a near-by
town. Of course they would not allow me to do
this. When I came home, mother asked me, “ Do

Toni Sender

yoE love us so little that you want to leave us?’’
but I could not explain the reasons that had prompted
my request.

The atmosphere in school matched that at home.
A very strict discipline prevailed. There was no
time for questions from the curious. Obedience,
obedience—always obedience ! I submitted. Prob¬
ably few of my teachers had any idea of the force of
the inner rebellion that I was keeping down. My
parents expected me to remain the best student in
my grade even after I skipped a class. This added
to my uneasiness. Although I did not share their
ambition, I did not dare to disappoint them.

Very often I was terribly bored in school. It
puzzled me that I did not like school, for I knew that
I was very eager to study, to learn about life and
nature. There was only one thing that impressed
me in my early schooldays and that followed me
all through life. When a new principal came to
our school, he had posters with old maxims hung
on the walls of the classrooms. Among those in
my class, I was struck by the one which said : Nichts
halb zu tun ist edler Geister Art'" (To do nothing half¬
way is the way of noble minds). This admonition
has accompanied me through life and has often been
an encouragement and a reminder of the liigh
intentions with which I started.

Before graduating, I had to try to settle the question
of my further education. When the principal of
om Hohete Tdchterschule cdAltd me to his office to
ask if I would like to skip a class and graduate at a
very early age, it was the happiest moment of my
childhood. Under terrific tension, I was waiting

Girlhood in the Germany of the Kaiser

for the moment for school to end. It was my secret
desire to leave home, to go to another town, to live
by myself, to be free, independent, to live my own
life.

A very strong instinct told me even in my earliest
schooldays that I had to escape, that Biebrich was
not the atmosphere in which I should develop best
to become a worthy member of society. I therefore
dehberately decided to undertake new studies and
schooling that were not available in my home town
or its neighbourhood and that would necessitate
leaving home immediately. No less important was
it that the knowledge acquired would enable me to
make my own living as soon as possible. I did
not disclose these considerations to my parents when
I discussed matters with them and asked them to
let me go to Frankfurt, about forty miles from Biebrich,
for a two-year course in a commercial high school.
My parents were surprised. But since they baH
been prepared for something much more extravagant,
they gave their consent, though not xmtil they realized
how determined I was. That I planned not to
come back once the two years were over, I told
nobody.

What a happy day this graduation day—the open
door to liberty. There was only one obstacle to
be overcome. I was only thirteen years old, a few
years below the age for admission to the commercial
high school. Father went with me to Frankfurt
to interview the principal. We were armed with
a favourable graduation report from the Biebrich
school. It did not fail to impress the gentleman,
and within a short time I was admitted to the school.

Toni Sender

To-day I can confess that I had no idea what
sort of calling I was really choosing. I knew nobody
who had ever worked in that field. The only factor
that counted was that within two years I should
no longer be dependent upon my family—that seemed
to me like heaven.

The reality, indeed, turned out somewhat less
romantic than my dreams. Established in a boarding¬
house in Frankfurt kept by people who were friends
of my parents, I soon became the target of the wit
of all the other youngsters there. At first I did
not understand. Were they serious or joking ? How
could they discover so many words in the German
language that had a double meaning? This lasted
some time and meant a bitter apprenticeship until I
learned how to retaliate and acquired the necessary
nerve to open the attack.

I very soon discovered that this new atmosphere
was not much freer than that at home. The
family was as conservative as my own and readily
followed my parents’ demand that I be watched
carefully. Nevertheless, I succeeded in drawing two
of the girls of the family into my plot, which consisted
of obtaining a job before my parents could learn
about it and firustrate my intention, Another partner
in this plot was the head of the commercial high
school. I talked with him before the end of the
last term, asking him to give me my diploma sometime
before the term’s end if I succeeded in finding a
position before then. The idea was to forestall my
parents’ coming to take me back home when school
was over.

Somebody told me of a vacancy in a well-known

Girlhood in the Germany of the Kaiser

estate agent’s office. I applied for it and was asked
to present myself. I was extremely excited but did
not forget one important precaution. I looked, at
fifteen years of age, very childlike. I was small and
rather slim, with the face of a sthoolgirl; my hair
was in two thick, dark braids. Nobody would have
believed that I was fit for serious responsibilities.
So I decided to ask one of my landladies to lend me
one of her dresses and a hat. I put up my hair.
The trick worked. I was accepted !

What then followed may seem quite unbelievable
to the young generation of to-day. First my parents
came to persuade me to abandon the job and return
home. They failed. Then followed visits of uncles
and aunts and of other members of the family, all
trying to make me understand that I was disgracing
the entire family by working for a living. I could
not agree with this. I listened to them only to
become more firmly determined to go on.

In the meantime, however, I had discovered that
the job hardly corresponded with the picture I had
formed of this kind of existence. Wo rking ten or
eleven hours daily only to make profits for the firm
did not seem to give more validity to my life.

For years I led something like a double life. I
loved my family too much to cause them permanent
grief and sorrow—but on the other hand I would
not be weak and cowardly enough to give up even
if my refusal caused trouble. The only way out
was to avoid discussion with my family of the things
that were occupying my miad. And I tried to hide
all my activities from my parents and from the
people in the boarding-house.

Tom Sender

It was a laborious^ hard, intense, but, as it seemed
to us, an interesting life that we led in Frankfurt
in those days before the World War. We ’’ means
a group of middle-class girls and boys who desired
to work, not because of economic need, but from
a wish to become useful human beings. Many
among us had left comfortable homes and prospects
of an easy life, as I myself had done. Not only did
we want to live our own lives, but we felt an urge
to render service to the community. Our objective
was not to find satisfaction for ourselves alone, but
to make life fuller and richer for everyone.

In our ideahsm we may have started out with
expectations that were too high. My work in an
estate agent’s office, one of the most important in
Germany, offered little genuine satisfaction, especially
during the first months. For my freedom after office
hours I paid a high price. The days seemed end¬
lessly long. The atmosphere in the office was not
on a high intellectual level. There I had my first
close contact with people of the working class.
None of them was a member of a union, or in any
way connected with the labour movement. Their
desire seemed to be to rise into the middle class,
which I considered an unworthy ambition. I had
just left that class and didn’t like it. My employers
at first gave me very subordinate work, filing and
copying. I felt it was unworthy of my two years
of commercial high school training, but out of fear
of losing the job I did not dare to protest. I found
a way of defence, however—a well-known syndicalist
weapon, although then I did not know that word,

I tried passive resistance and slowed down the tempo

Girlhood in the Germanj of the Kaiser

of my work so that finally my employer tried me
on another job, somewhat more interesting. Not
only was more responsible work given to me, but
my very small salary was increased several times.
I was lucky to be promoted rather than discharged !

But I overcame the disappointment of the first
year after many secret tears. I could not permit
anyone to learn of my unhappiness and perhaps
inform my family, who would be only too ready to
gloat over my failure. And soon I was able to work
out a new philosophy of life. Its main idea was :
“ Life begins when business life is over.’" In those
days, however, that meant that life started only at
eight or nine o’clock in the evening.

Although I could not find business activity fasci-
nating, I finally developed some ambition. The
firm met it with understanding and finally put me
in charge of the mortgage department, thus en¬
trusting to a very young girl employee negotiations
with contractors who came to seek money and
mortgages for new buildings, dealings with the
official appraiser, and correspondence with the mort¬
gage banks. My employers showed more confidence
in me than my parents had shown, and they gave
me a considerable amount of independence in my
work. Later they added to my duties important
tasks concerned with publicity.

It was certainly not my personal experience with
employers that set me on the road I later chose.
My relations with them were always friendly, a
factor that may have helped to form a philosophy
free of any feeling of rancour towards individuals.
From the very first I was offered a srreat many

Toni Sender

opportunities to become acquainted with the work¬
ing of our economic machinery, and I therefore
learned by practice before my theoretical curiosity
was awakened.

Soon enough, however, this curiosity too was
aroused. A burning desire to understand every aspect
of life led me from reading to evening .classes and
lectures. The problems of religion and'philosophy
seemed most urgent. Among my friends at this
time the closest was Hanna G., a girl who came
from an environment similar to mine and who felt
the same eagerness to learn. We had nobody to
advise us. Both of us had received a conservative,
orthodox education, and both of us were tormented
by doubts. We could not “ think with our blood ”—
to use the language of the modem barbarians—but
only with our reason, our logic. I certainly was
profoundly religious in my earliest days, silently
criticizing my own family, sometimes, because it
did not seem to be devout enough. I feared I could
not become worthy of my own ideal of a really
pious person, and I suffered deeply for this imper¬
fection.

Yes, I thought, there must be a higher purpose in
life than this daily struggle to be successful in a
career and respected or even envied by others. There
must be ideals beyond the superficial aspirations
of common life—^ideals of absolute value, perhaps
unattainable, but which we must at least attempt
to reach.

Later, we became more humble, Hanna as well
as I. We did not find the final answers, but we
refiised to accept faith as a cover for our ignorance,

Girlhood in the Germany of the Kaiser

since we would not regard our ignorance as final.
We wanted to leave the door wide open for our
searching minds. We refused to erect barriers to
our free thinking, to abandon the quest for more
knowledge, to renounce the use of our brains at
any point. We gave up an easy happiness and
harmony with our neighbours in order to claim
the right to’ search for truth for truth’s sake. We
were rewarded by the joy that came at certain stages
when we realized that we had broadened, if only
to a small extent, our comprehension of things and
of life.

What were we so eagerly searching for? Un¬
satisfied with middle-class ideology and morals, we
strove for a more genuine foundation for our ethics.
The deep and lasting impression that Henrik Ibsen
made upon our generation can hardly be over¬
estimated. His crusade against the conventional lie
had the effect of a clearing thunderstorm. With
Hanna and her younger sister Toni I read one after
another of his works ; we missed none of his plays
which were produced. In our small circle we dis¬
cussed his ideas in an academic way. “ By our
own behaviour we must give life to this concept.”
That was understood by everyone among us. To
older persons our attitude probably seemed childish,
exaggerated. At no price would I, for instance,
go to see any relative without feeling honest friend¬
ship for him. '‘ No concession to the conventional
lie ” was our maxim. But of course you first had
to detect all these lies of convention within your own
realm.

Most impressive to me was Ibsen’s Brandy the

Toni Sender

tragedy of a man struggling to devote himself to
his duty. I could not forget the scene in which
Brand struggles with the temptation to stay with his
sick wife and child, rather than perform his duty,
and the doctor holds up the mirror to him :

So tender to his own distress,

And to the world so merciless ;

Alas, Alas 1

Is this a Titan’s portraiture?

But Brand overcame the temptation. He left his wife
and child rather than desert Ms duty. Later in hfe, when
it sometimes seemed almost impossible to reconcile duty
and emotion, I often remembered Brand’s indecision.

It must have been about this time that I said to
my mother, Mother, you know, you must not
bother about a dowry for me. I don’t want and
don’t need any.” Surprised at first, she did not take
my statement seriously. ‘‘Another of your crazy
ideas ! ” was her answer. She thought it a romantic
dream that would fade with time.

A restless period followed. Almost every evening
was devoted to classes. What nervous hours towards
the end of the day when my office work remained
unfinished ! Would I get out on time ? I never
knew until the last second. And not infrequently j
had to miss class only because of some detail that
might have been handled earlier if my employers
had shown a little more consideration for the private
lives of their employees.

Besides philosophy, we took courses in anthropol¬
ogy, art, and Mstory. However, we were not satisfied
with listening to lectures and asking questions. The

Girlhood in the Germany of the Kaiser

need for further discussion was felt very strongly.
But how to satisfy it? None of us possessed more
than a tiny bedroom in a boarding-house. It was
impossible for a boy or a girl to receive young people
in his or her room. How could we meet? We
found a way out. I discovered that the centra]
railway station had a large writing-room which
was almost always empty in the late evening hours.
There we would go when the lectures or classes
ended. We discussed the subject of the evening,
wrote summaries of the formal and informal talks,
and forgot how quickly the hours passed. Often
it was nearly midnight before we were through.

, By that hour a new problem came up for me.
Would they open the door of my boarding-house
to let me in? My parents had ordered that no
keys be given to me. I was expected to be home
early. Now it was midnight. I stood in the pouring
rain on a dark night. There were no lights in the
house. Nevertheless, I rang the door-bell. No answer.
I dared to ring again and again, with the same
negative result. Locked out! More time had passed.
It was nearly one o’clock. Impossible for a girl of
seventeen of childish appearance and without any
luggage to go to a hotel. My first thought was
Hanna—but she lived so far away and I was some¬
what afraid of the long, lonely trip. Would Leah
receive me ? She was a young married woman,
an extraordinarily kind person with much goodwill
and understanding of youth. She received me.

Leah became my saving angel, welcoming me
whenever I was shelterless. But, as a consequence,
relations with my parents and the friends at the

Toni Sender

boarding-house became strained. I could not easily
forgive their locking me out so often in the cold
night It seemed to me a very peculiar way to
watch over my virtue.

The desire to escape became stronger and stronger.
Now and then my mother or father came to see
me, and always tried to make me understand that
I had gone far enough and should return home.

‘‘ It is impossible to continue your mode of life,’’
mother said. “ Getting up at six o’clock in the
morning to practise the piano [I had rented a piano
for that purpose] before office hours, working all
day, and attending classes at night.”

My answer was, “ I am ready to listen to you—■
let me change my profession ! ”

I developed new plans. There were few pro¬
fessions which I would not have tried out at cer¬
tain moments during this period. However, I was
not yet of age, and I had to obtain my parents’
approval before I could begin training for a new
held.

I would go to see my parents to discuss some new
project.

“What plan are you bringing us to-day?” my
father would ask me when he met me at the station.
But his reaction to my answers was always negative.
In spite of all the hospitality I was offered, I would
leave with a new and deep sense of disappointment.
I was most mnhappy the day they finally vetoed my
desire to study economics. My plan was worked
out in all details. I did not want my parents to
contribute in any way to the cost of this study, for
I had found for myself the combination of studvins:

Girlhood in the Germany of the Kaiser

and making a living. But their resistance remained
firm. I probably would have tried to pursue the
plan in spite of this, but our family physician warned
me that if I rebelled any longer and brought further
nervous strain upon my father, I might regret the
consequences to his health. That, of course, ended
it. I did not mean to lead my own fife at the expense
of my father’s.

Back in Frankfurt, the conflict recommenced at
once. It was impossible to give up all interest in
life and live like an automaton while the most fascin¬
ating things were going on. It was the period of
an awakening of genuine democratic thinkin g in
Germany under the leadership of Theodor Barth in
Berlin. Barth was a great personality and a fascin¬
ating writer. We were eager to read his articles in
the Berlin Kation. He gave us our first political
education, awakened in us an appreciation of genuine
self-government. Of comse, his movement did not
last long ; most of his followers later joined the
Social Democratic movement. Naturally, we were
not satisfied to listen to only one opirdon. We went
to all available meetings of political parties. Soon I
felt a temptation to take part in the discussion, but,
feeling too young, I did not dare. I found a way
out by asking questions in writing.

In our round of exploration we became interested
in the labour movement. An ofiice workers’ union
had just been started. Its membership was not
yet more than two or three score. However, there
was plenty of room for improvement in the working
conditions of this category of workers. Hanna and
I did not expect any advantage for ourselves, for we

Toni Sender

were relatively well paid. But we knew enough
about labour conditions in many other places and
we, tooj had experienced long hours of labour.
Stronger than all these considerations, however, was
the feeling : We don’t want to belong to the class
of the idle, to the bourgeoisie, so we must demon¬
strate our active solidarity with labour.” We joined
the union. If our employers learned about it, it
probably would mean the loss of our jobs—but we
were ready to take a chance.

We were not satisfied to be merely dues-paying
members and therefore volunteered to work for the
union. How we managed to find the necessary time
despite our full schedule I cannot now understand.
But we did. The union gave us lists of office workers
who were sons and daughters of organized workers.
We were to look them up at their homes, to talk
to them about the need of labour solidarity. This
was not such an easy task for a still rather shy

bourgeois ” girl, and my success was not impressive.
How many times would the mother, a working woman,
receive me warmly and, as soon as she learned the
purpose of my visit, put me out of the house. Her
daughter or her son was not to become a worker
and be drawn into union activity.

Another of our tasks was to watch certain firms
during evening hours, especially on Saturday night,
to find out how late the employees had to work.
These firms were known for exploiting their employees
more than the average. Having learned the facts,
we had to be ready to testify before the police and
eventually in court.

Soon there came my first opportunity to take part

Girlhood in the Gennany of the Kaiser

in a poKtical demonstration. And it was for an
excellent cause. Of course we were very young and
inexperienced and hardly realized what we were
doing.

The voting laws of Prussia before the World War
were revoltingly unjust. The electorate for the diet
was divided into three classes, along property lines.
The most wealthy, few in number, controlled the
largest number of seats ; the second class, those of
medium wealth, held a good number of seats. Those
who owned no property, although they formed the
overwhelming majority of the population, had the
smallest number of seats. The vote was indirect.
One could vote only for electors who appointed the
members of the diet for their “ class.” The system
was calculated to maintain the rule of the remnants
of feudahsm and of the owners of heavy industry in
this most important part of Germany. All demands
for reform were refused.

The left parties in Prussia decided to demonstrate
against this monstrous law. Most of us were not of
suffrage age, but there was no question about our
participating. The first of these demonstrations was
a parade, and since it was held on the outskirts of
the town, the masses of workers who came were
not disturbed by the authorities. The next demon¬
stration was to be a parade in the city itself. The
Prussian pohce promptly prohibited it. The sponsor¬
ing organizations insisted that the citizens had a
right to the streets and that the parade would be
held. My group was naturally in the line of march.
It was then that we made our first acquaintance with
the old Prussian pohce truncheon.

Toni Sender

WHIe our group was marching along the Zeil,
the main artery of the city, scores of armed poHce-
men stopped us and immediately began to beat
people.

“ What have we done ? Is the street forbidden to
the tax-paying citizen ? ” I dared to ask.

The answer was a rain of blows. My back hurt
terribly. Never in my life had I been so furious.
I tried to rush into the next building—blocked ! The
police stiU followed me. Finally I tried a door. It
opened. The poHce in pursuit, I ran upstairs and
finaUy found refuge with a strange but friendly
family xmtil the battle was over.

That evening remained in the memory of thou¬
sands as Frankfurt’s “bloody night.” Many of the
demonstrators were seriously wounded. The entire
affair made the Prussian police system more hated
than ever. The day of our revenge wiU come—that
was our secret vow j then there will be a free citizenry
in a city and a country liberated from the rule of the
feudal barons and their brutal mercenaries.

I was much bothered by the danger of discovery,
but how could I stop ? I was driven by a compulsion
stronger than myself and had to go on along the
road on which I had started. Not satisfied with
only slight improvements in the condition of the
wor^g class, I raised the question : “Is it not
possible to organize a world in which one can really
live one’s ideals, not merely profess them ? ” With
a small group of friends, I talked with the librarian
in the labour library and thus came into contact
with books on socialism. It was difficult stuff to
comprehend. We needed time for this complicated

Girlhood in the Germany of the Kaiser

study, so we decided to meet in the park in the early
morning before office hours to read and study together.
Older people said we were crazy—but they had
no idea of the satisfaction we felt when our efforts
were compensated by the unfolding of a new world.

And we enjoyed those fresh morning hours, not
only as students, but also as lovers of nature. The
park in Frankfurt encircles the inner city like a
ribbon. Benches under the shadowy trees offered
us a welcome, and the eye could rest on the refreshing
green of bushes and meadows. It was still quiet.
Only now and then a young boy would pass by on
his bicycle, carrying bread to his master’s customers.
Or from the distance would come the echo of a
trotting horse and slowly rolling wheels—the milk¬
man’s wagon. Very rarely did a promenader disturb
us—^the park during those hours belonged to us and
to the gaily chirping birds.

The meetings of the Socialist movement, which I
began to attend, at first neither attracted nor satisfied
me. I hesitated to join ; I disliked the unaesthetic
meeting-halls, the unattractive surroundings. Some
of the lectures were uninteresting. It took some
time for me to understand that I had to brush aside
this hesitation and help to do things the way I thought
they should be done. I finally joined and felt it was
a decisive moment in my life.

The following May Day I happened to be with
my parents. I was confronted with a problem.
How was I to go to the Socialist May Day gathering ?

I did not know how, but I knew I would certainly
go. It was impossible to tell my parents. At the
very last moment somebodv told me that there was

Toni Sender

to be a park concert that morning. I told mother
that I wanted to go, and away I went to the May
Day demonstration.

It was not very exciting—but I felt I had done
my duty. When I returned home, an icy welcome
descended on me. Mother and father had learned
from some source that I had been at the Socialist
rally.

“ How could you have the absurd idea of visiting
such an ill-famed place, to meet with such a mob ? ”
my mother demanded in a sharp voice. “Did you
not think of the effect your behaviour would have
on father’s reputation and on his business ? ”

I thought it better not to answer. It would have
made things worse, and of course I realized that my
act would scandalize all the respectable people in
town.

I could not go on like that, telling lies and being
treated like an outcast. The longing for more free¬
dom was irresistible. France became the goal of my
dreams. The great French Revolution must have left
its traces—it must be the land of real freedom. I
asked everybody I knew who had connections abroad
to tell me of any opening in Paris that promised a
job.

Help finally came from a rather unexpected quar-
ter. One of the young men in my boarding-house,
who held a leadmg position in a metal company,
told me that their Paris agency was looking for an
experienced person, knowing French and English
perfectly, who was also a capable stenographer in
German, English, and French.

I did not know English and French shorthand—

Girlhood in the Germany of the Kaiser

but what would I not have promised in order to get
away ! I boldly apphed for the position with the
intention of learning the things I did not yet know.
I was willing to work day and night rather rljari
stay any longer in Germany. My application was
accepted, and a good salary was offered. Of course,
my parents disapproved, but they realized that this
time I could riot be kept down. Would I join the
Socialist movement in France, my father asked at
our parting. Of course I would, but without damag¬
ing his reputation, I promised.

How happy I was—the door open at last to real
hberty. Paris !

II

PARIS: PRELUDE TO THE WORLD WAR

My relief on leaving behind the country where I
had suffered such restraints on my independence
soon was forgotten in an experience which, in the
beginning at least, was rather strenuous.

Paris in those rainy October days of 1910 did not
reveal all its splendour, still less its hidden charms.
Grey clouds hung over the city for weeks. It was
not an encouraging atmosphere for adjustment to
a new city and a new way of living. The Paris
agency of the metal concern fortunately was managed
by a fine type of executive ; otherwise my early
weeks in Paris woxild have been much more diffi¬
cult, if not impossible. Since I had studied French
only at school and had heard my father speak it
occasionally at home, I could both understand and
speak the language. But the special terminology of
a metal business, with all its peculiar formulas, was,
to me, a book with seven seals. I understood little
of all that the manager told me during the first
days. Would I have to study metallurgy before I
should be able to follow ? But even more urgent
was the need for rapid acquisition of French and
English shorthand, which I had professed to know. I
bought the textbooks and studied diligently at night.

Paris : Prelude to the World War

No matter how foreign, a place may be, yon always
encounter some kind person ready to be helpful.
Of course, I found myself in a trying situation because
of my own shortcomings, and I began to wonder
what I would do if I lost my job, for I had been
given it only on trial. At any rate, I decided, I
would not go back to Germany, even if only the
meanest kind of work were open to me. I told
Lucien, a young French employee of the firm, of my
difficulties. I needed somebody to give me dictation
for practise in French and EngHsh shorthand. And
I needed somebody who could explain the ABC
of the ore trade. Lucien was not yet fully acquainted
with it, but all he knew he put at my disposal, and
in the next few months he contributed much towards
making me feel at home. We always remained
good comrades. In exchange for his kind services
I shared with him some of the results of my research
into the social and political institutions of his
country.

Was I looking for new difficulties ? I do not think so.
I was just a very curious person. Now that I was hving
in a new country, I had to acquire new knowledge.
Inquiring about possibilities of evening studies, I
learned that there was an Association Philo technique
which gave evening classes in the neighbourhood of
my office, at the Lycee Condorcet. I registered for
two or three evening classes there and later on apphed
for admittance to classes at the Sorbonne also.

However, what I had told my father at our parting
was not forgotten. I looked for contacts with the
labour movement. The people I met at first knew
little about it. But in the Humanitij the daily news-

Toni Sender

paper, then under the editorship of Jean Jaures, I
discovered what I was looking for : ficole des fitudiants
Socialistes—School for Socialist Students. I went to
a lecture. There I was told that the school held
seminars in the more advanced social studies. I was
bold enough to apply for admittance to them in spite
of the fact that I was not a regular student, had been
in the country only a few weeks, was under twenty
and knew the language only imperfectly. But a
strong will could overcome all this, I thought.

In those years before the war, a German Socialist
was received everywhere abroad with the highest
respect. It was as if the scholarship of the founders
of scientific socialism were reflected on all of us. I
nevertheless felt quite unworthy of the highly respectful
reception the French students gave me. In the first
seminar meeting I was charged to study Werner
Sombart’s Capitalism^ first volume, and to report
on it within a fortnight. I was frightened, but
did not dare to show my fear, and I accepted the
assignment.

Now began the hunt for the book. Having to work
all day, I could not read in the library, but only at
night at home. Unacquainted with Paris, I lost a few
days in the search for the book. When I finally got
it, I stayed up the major part of my nights poring
over Werner Sombarfs volume. What a task ! Not
yet too familiar with economic terminology in my
own language, I had to read in German and immedi¬
ately make my notes in French. It was almost beyond
my capacity. But how could I disappoint my new
fiiends ? Sacrificing most of my sleep for almost two
weeks, I accomplished the task, but not too well. I

Paris: Prelude to the World War

promised myself to be more careful in the future. I
was greatly relieved when all was over and I could
again sleep through the night.

There was not too long a period of quiet. I lived
then in the rue Lafayette, a rather expensive street,
at the boarding-house of an old English lady. She
had some very peculiar customs. In her sitting-room,
next to my room, she had three parrots chattering in
competition with one another. She also felt herself
to be the guardian of her lodgers’ virtue. I then took
lessons in literary French from a cousin of mine, a
philologist. While at first I went to his apartment for
that purpose, he suggested later that he come to my
room for them. Naturally I accepted. Was I not in
the free city of Paris ? But he came only once. After
he had gone, the landlady marched into my room.
She would not tolerate visits of men ! And she would
accept no explanation.

There was only one answer—^to move out immedi¬
ately. Meantime I had learned to know Paris better
and to love it. The real Paris was not in the neigh¬
bourhood of the Grand Boulevards, anyway. The
Paris I cherished was the Paris of the Montmartre
quarter, of the Tuileries, the Louvre, Notre Dame,
the Seine with its old bridges and the bouquinistes, the
book pedlars, selling their old books and etchings from
their stalls. Most of all I loved the left bank, the
Quartier Latin where the gay life of students and
artists coincided with serious study and an atmo¬
sphere stripped of social prejudice. Even to-day I
cannot think of the Luxembourg garden without a
deep longing for its old, shadowy trees, the fountain
of the Medicis, the picturesque company of the artists.

Tom Sender

students, and citizens one met there, the bright colours
of olden times captured here as if by miracle.

I made friends with students, French and Russian,
and three of us, Lyuba, Evgueni, and I, took an apart¬
ment near the Luxembourg garden. Now at last I
felt free. For the first time in my life I felt at home !

Our household did not last very long. I later moved
to the rue Severe, a short, quiet street in the four¬
teenth district on the left bank, where I remained for
the rest of my stay in Paris. Here I made my dearest
friendships, met the most devoted comrades, and
knew those great men who most influenced my life
and my activities. It was the most active and the most
wonderful time of my life. We were young, full of
idealism and love of study. We were ready for any
sacrifice. All of us had to work hard for a living—
but there was always time for the cause.

Of course I had joined the Socialist party. I applied
and was admitted like an old friend. Different
factions immediately courted me. “ Are you a
Guesdist ? ” came from one. “ WiU you not join
the Jauresists ? ” asked the other. And finally the
ancims Herveistes tried their best. Was it not enough
to belong to a party ? I have always felt that was
sufficient restriction on one’s free will. You always
give up some of your independence in joining an
organization. I was, therefore, determined never to
belong to a faction. It certainly is more convenient
not to be bound by any party allegiance. If, however,
you are not only a strong individualist but also a
human being feeling keenly the desire to be a member
of a community, realizing that the well-being of the
individual and that of the community are inter-

28

Paris : Prelude to the World War

dependent, then you wotild feel selfish if you rejected
your obligation towards society. Many an individu-
ahst also wants a better world. He cannot create
it by himself—and he cannot for any length of
time live a really full life at the expense of others.
It certainly is one of the greatest arts in life to
find the synthesis of a strong individualism and an
active participation in the struggle to create a better
world.

This synthesis can more easily be found in France,
with her long tradition of freedom and tolerance,
than in any other country of the Continent. There I
had an effective schoohng in genuine democratic pro¬
cedure within an organization. In the French Social¬
ist party’s tradition there is a great respect for the
conviction of every individual member. Proportional
representation is the rule from the bottom to the top,
in the local groups, the district, the national conven¬
tion, and the executive. Nowhere is there absolute
majority rule. Always and everywhere the minority
is given a fair opporturuty to express itself, to fight
in order to become a majority. And though the
discussions, in accord with French temperament, are
always highly passionate, one remains Mend and
comrade to an opponent. Difference of opinion need
not engender hatred, although, when you listened to
the heated debates every Friday night at our meet¬
ings of the famous fourteenth section of the Socialist
party of Paris, you received the impression that it
was a bitter, implacable fight.

I had scarcely become a member of the fourteenth
section when they elected me vice-chairman. I felt
greatly honoured but, stUl more, surprised. How

• Toni Sender

coidd I have deserved it, a German, a very young
girl in an organization rich in cultured and deserving
persons ? The fourteenth section in pre-war days
was famous for its high intellectual standing and its
militant spirit. I accepted gratefully, and I may say
I did my best to deserve the confidence that the
comrades had placed in me.

This task was made easier by the chairman, a colour¬
ful personality who bore the name D. Paoli, of the
famous Corsican family of General Pasquale di Paoh.
With a tall though dehcate figure, thick black hair,
a noble face with deep, dark burning eyes which be¬
trayed a great passion, he was a strongly self-willed
yet kind personality. Destined by his family for the
career of an army ofiicer, natural for a Paoli, he was
sent to a military college. He revolted against the
discipline and escaped to become one of the best
educated and most devoted fighters for socialism.
Strangely enough, we became the very best firiends,
working together for the movement and sharing also
in literary and other interests. There was only one
passion which the young girl coiild not quite under¬
stand. Paoli never lost a deep interest in the study
of military strategy. What could make an enthusiastic
Socialist take such an interest in strategy? Was it
the restless blood of his great ancestor, the famous
general, who in a heroic war had liberated Corsica
from domination by Genoa and had given to that
short-lived island-republic a constitution which set
down the rights of man years ahead of The Declaration
of Independence and the French Revolution ? Reborn
in this young twentieth-century Socialist was his
ancestor’s qualities of a fighter—a fighter for his

Paris : Prelude to the World War

country’s freedom and for the freedom of the people
within his country.

It was still more surprising that Paoli, the Corsican,
attempted, with me, to introduce some German
organizational methods into the French movement.
The Latin temperament of the French makes them
less steady. Therefore, their organizations are often
like a sieve—a permanent coming and leaving. To¬
day they enter a party—to-morrow they drop member¬
ship, though not allegiance. We tried to make the
ties to the movement more solid by means of educa¬
tion and by the formation of small units with very
close contact between the subleader and the members.
As far as I could judge, on the basis of a short-term
experience, the system seemed to work.

Of course our collaboration was not always smooth
and easy-going. Paoli would be carried away by his
rash temper, and I certainly was sometimes too sensi¬
tive. Then Grazziani, another Corsican, though nor¬
mally much more hot-headed and unbridled than I,
would do his best to make us forget the incident. He
really was a good Samaritan, this unceremonious
fellow, now a member of the French Chamber of
Deputies, who did not like study too much but who
had a lot of common sense and was an impressive
speaker.

We scarcely lacked speakers in our section. Almost
every member was an orator ! Many of the French
are born speechmakers. Every Friday night we had our
lecture meeting in a hall at the back of a public-house.
It was not very elegant or pleasant, but all that was
forgotten once the meeting started. Passionate debate
always followed the lecture, a real intellectual fight.

Toni Sender

in which we all took part. It was a good school in
logic and clear expression. When at midnight or at
one o’clock the innkeeper came to tell us that it was
time to leave, we had never j&nished. But it was not
the end. We went to the nearest cafe, and there the
discussion was continued.

We all grouped around Pere Bracke, 'our member
of the Chamber, deeply beloved by all of us. Alex¬
andre Bracke—Bracke ” was merely a so-called
political name—was also well known under his real
name, Desrousseaux ; he was professor of Greek at
the Sorbonne and one of the greatest scholars in the
social sciences. Heavy-set, of the Flemish build fre¬
quently met in northern France, he personifies the
very finest type of leader and friend. He always
helped me in my studies and to this day remains one
of my dearest friends. He is not the typical French
orator; nevertheless, he was listened to most closely
because we all knew that he had something substantial
and valid to tell us. Though he was among the most
highly respected, one never discovered in him a single
trait of haughtiness. He was the genuine friend of the
working man ; and not in a distant way, for he would
sit down with a worker and over a cup of coflFee dis¬
cuss his political problems. Bracke knows the souTof
his people and these people love him. He does not
speak foreign languages, but he knows many of them
very well and has translated into French many im¬
portant foreign works, especially of the German
sciences. One may imagine how greatly the young
girl appreciated the discussions with this man into the
late hours of the night. It was always with deep regret
that we finally parted.

Paris : Prelude to the World War

My section made me a permanent delegate to the
Federal Council of the Socialist Federation of the
Seine. It generally met on Monday nights to discuss
political or tactical questions. The delegates of our
fourteenth section were looked on as the most spec¬
tacular—sometimes also, I admit, as the most unruly.
We certainly never avoided taking a definite stand,
and we fought hard for our views. Not rarely, how¬
ever, we were defeated. One of the most interesting
sessions of the Federal Council took place when Captain
Gerard, a high General Staff officer and closest friend
of Jean Jaures, lectured on Jaures’ new book. The
New Army^ dealing with the timely topic of the defence
of the republic and the democracy. There certainly
never was a more glowing friend and fighter for
peace than Jean Jaures. But he was not of the
purely emotional, defeatist sort. He understood that
a democracy had to be militant and he showed us
how intimately connected was a true democracy with
the character of the army. Captain Gerard, of tali
stature and a fine spiritual face, gave us two of the
most interesting and scholarly lectures we ever heard.

How could I find the time to engage in so many
activities in those happy though restless years ? I did
not deceive myself about my need for further study.
My special interests were law and economics. But the
daytime was taken by office work, so I went to the
director of the Bibliotheque Sainte-Genevieve, the
famous old library near the Pantheon, to obtain a
special permit to work there at night. Many evenings
I spent there alone or with a student friend.

Some of the earlier morning hours, following my
Frankfurt custom, were spent with a young French

Toni Sender

student reading Karl Marx’s Capital^ this time im
French.

Though it was my conviction that you learn to
know another people really well only when you share
their daily life, their joys and their sorrows, but
never when you spend your leisure time with your
compatriots, I did not neglect the Germans in Paris.
Sascha and Wally Grumbach would not have per¬
mitted me to do so. Sascha was a young Alsatian, a
capable journalist, correspondent for more than a
dozen German labour papers. He is now a member
of the French Chamber and active in foreign affairs in
Paris and Geneva. When we met in Paris, however,
he was connected with the German movement. Wally,
his wife, a beautiful brunette, an able music student
with an agreeable alto voice, daughter of a wealthy
family, had abandoned home and career and had
secretly run away from Frankfurt to join Sascha in
Paris and to marry him. With the Grumbachs I
went almost every Saturday night to the German
Socialist Reading Club, which had rented quarters
in a co-operative building in the rue de Bretagne in
order to offer a library and reading-room to Germans
in Paris.

The Saturday meetings were always well attended
—^in those days, politically somewhat quieter than
the present, there seems to have been a greater thirst
for knowledge. The book-store, improvised every
Saturday night in the meeting-hall, sold on each of
those evenings from 200 to 300 francs worth of books,
more of them scientific than fiction. Usually on these
Saturday nights some of the French trade unions would
send spokesmen to collect funds for their members

Paris : Prelude to the World War

on strike. They knew it would be worth while. Al¬
though most of the club members were workers, they
always gave their share. It was in the club that I met
Otto Pohl, an Austrian, correspondent of the Wiener
Arbeiterzdtung and the Berlin Vorwarts. Otto Pohl
was a highly cultured and intelligent person and a
genuine Bohemian Though I never saw him
again, I have not forgotten his spirited chatter in

his’’-cafe on the Boulevard Saint-Michel. Shortly
after the World War he became Austrian ambassador
to Moscow. But it is difficult for me to imagine that
he could have felt at home anywhere but in the Latin
Quarter of Paris.

Sunday afternoons belonged to Wally and me. We
had managed to take apartments in the same build¬
ing and we helped each other as much as possible.
She was an art critic for some German papers and
received press, theatre, and concert tickets, which we
used together. Our curiosity also led us to visit the
art salons. This introduction to French painting,
especially to the Impressionists and to the first begin¬
nings of futurist and cubist art, awakened in me a
preference for the Impressionist school that became
important in some of my later work. On Sunday
afternoons, however, Wally and I studied history and
socialism. On the top floor of the modest building on
the quiet rue Severo, we spent some of our happiest
days—^learning, discussing, enjoying liberty in our
plain though cosy rooms.

It was through the Grumbachs and the German
Club that I met many visitors from abroad. One of
them was Engelbert Pernerstorfer, the great Austrian
Socialist leader, even then an old man, but still pos-

‘Toni Sender

sessed of all his chivalry and charm. One day Karl
Liebknecht arrived with his wife, Sonya, to spend a
vacation in Paris. Karl, later one of the most spec¬
tacular and courageous fighters against the war, was
at this time a rather reserved although interesting
companion. Naturally we did not miss the opportu¬
nity of having him give a lecture in the German
Club. He brought us valuable information, and our
French friends thought that the message should be
given also to the French people. Jean Longuet, a
grandson of Karl Marx, had made an appointment
with Liebknecht for an interview for Humanite.
When Longuet came to the club, Karl at first would
not talk to him. He did not want to give interviews.
We others felt terribly embarrassed over the situa¬
tion. Not only was it an affront to the French party,
but Longuet was one of the most internationally
minded, kind, and sincere of comrades. Some of
us, therefore, intervened and after strenuous efforts
succeeded in making Karl change his mind. We com¬
pensated him and Sonya by showing them around
Paris by day and night. We aU had a jolly time. It
must have remained a bright spot in his memory,
especially in his subsequent terrible years, first in the
trenches—where he went although he was a member
of the Reichstag !—and later in his fight against the
army and civil authorities because of their war policy,
a highly courageous struggle that ended in his and
Rosa Luxemburg’s assassination in January, 1919, by
gangster militarists.

As speakers, however, none of the Germans—I
had heard August Bebel and Ludwig Frank, both
great orators—impressed me so much as the French.

Paris : Prelude to the World War

I never missed a lecture by Francis de Pressense if I
could help it. Pressense, scion of an aristocratic
family, former under-secretary to the Minister for
Public Education, former diplomat, and one of the
editors of the conservative Temps, had thrown himself
body and soul into the Dreyfus affair. His profound
sense of justice was aroused, and this historical struggle
led him to look more closely behind the scenes of a
corrupt ruling clique and into the background of the
social struggle. It was Vaffaire that made this aristocrat
a convinced Socialist who put his great and noble
talent and his wide knowledge at the service of the
workers. He lectured almost exclusively on foreign
affairs. This was also his main interest in the Chamber
of Deputies. He had no attributes of an orator,
neither the dramatic language nor the gestures.
Francis de Pressense was partly paralysed and therefore
spoke almost without gestures. But you always felt
on hearing him that you had learned an astonishing
amount. There was another feeling aroused by
Pressense’s quiet presentation—a feeling of which I
most strongly became aware during his exposure of
Italy’s war in Tripoli, her first successful ” North
African adventure. He awakened in you the idea
that even in politics and especially in foreign affairs
there must be morals ; that the right to justice must
be granted to all peoples, civilized ” or primitive ”.
The French workers must have felt this too, for they
always crowded the lectures of this friend who was so
different from ordinary Latin speakers, who was both
a teacher and a preacher.

What a contrast to this man was Gustave Herve,
the former anarchist who had spent years in lail for

Toni Sender

Ms violent anti-militarist propaganda ! While in jail,
he had begun to read and to change his mind. In¬
cidentally, he has continued to change his mind, and
now he is one of the staunchest nationalists in France.
Herve was always sincere. Charles Rappoport, later
to become a French Communist leader, used to say
of Herve : Herve is always sincere. He says what
he tMnks. Unfortunately he does not think ! ”
When I first met Herve, he had just been released
from jail and was to address a meeting to explain to
the public, including his former anarchist friends,
now bitter foes, why he had abandoned anarchism
and become a Socialist. I, too, was curious and went
to the Salle Wagram. There was great congestion at
the entrance ; one sensed excitement. I was shoved
into the hall, pushed to the front row. Rapidly the
galleries also filled. There was electricity in the air.
We waited for Herve. The crowd became impatient.
The longer we waited the more oppressive became
the heat, the greater the nervousness. The tension
grew tauter and tauter. Finally Herve came on the
platform—square-built, clad in a severe, monk-like
habit. He started to speak. But from his first words
I felt that sometMng must soon happen. And it came
quickly. Loud and violent interruptions, insults, re¬
proaches. Then came the first shot. Many more
followed. It became a terrible nightmare. Wounded
were carried away. Chairs were thrown from the gal¬
lery. The tables crashed. The lighting fixtures began
to fall in fragments—there was terrific confusion and
panic. Some tried to run away. It was impossible.
I and those about me had to sit and wait in the hope
that we would not be wounded. Police finally arrived.

Q

Paris : Prelude to the World War

Some of the anarchists with guns were arrested. These
men could never forgive Herve for abandoning his
former creed.

A new movement, to some extent started by Wally
and me, was the women’s labour organization. There
were women in the Socialist party, some of them very
clever and efScient. But they were a very small num¬
ber. The great majority of French women kept aloof
from the political scene. It has always been my con¬
viction that you can never accomplish fundamental
social changes in a free society without the collabora¬
tion of women, certainly not without their sympathy.
In all Catholic countries, and also in France, women
kept away from the political scene. Something had
to be done about it, we felt.

WaUy and I met with Elizabeth Renaud, tried
feminist, Marianne Rauze, AHce Jouenne, a teacher,
Suzanne Gibault, and others and founded a Socialist
women’s group. I took it upon myself to visit aU
sections and groups of the labour movement to stir
up their interest. For weeks my evenings, except those
reserved for classes, were entirely given to this job.
As a by-product, I got to know all Paris, not always
from its most pleasant side. Some workers’ groups
met in real dens. The results of the first attempts
were quite encouraging. At that time, in spite of their
theory, there were not many feminists among the
male Socialists. However, they received with good
will the rather girlish-looking woman I still was, and
seemed to give a cordial response to the appeals I made
to them in short speeches. On I went, evening after
evening. The ice seemed to be broken. Alas—the
war later destroyed this promising seed.

Toni Sender

Great compensation for this hard work were those
rare Saturday luncheons of a small group of friends
with Jules Guesde. He was one of the old guard of
international socialism. He had met Marx and Engels
in London and had worked with them on the party
programme. He was a genuine example of the prophet
who devotes his life to a great cause. His serious,
beautiful head, with its penetrating blue eyes, aquiline
nose, and long grey beard, was immediate revelation
of an extraordinary personality. This great scholar,
whose unusual intelligence would have opened for him
a brilliant career, lived all his life in poverty, often
in misery, because he gave himself entirely to the
service of the great cause he had chosen, wandering
about the entire country from city to city, teaching,
educating, stirring the masses to thought and activity.
A special gift of his was to pick the right men to carry
on the work started by him. He kept close contact
with these men, advising them and thus carrying on
a most systematic political education, an education
that bears its fruits to the present day. Apart from
this work, Guesde wrote excellent pamphlets, published
a magazine, sat in the Chamber, and participated in
the work of the Socialist International. His speeches
were sarcastic, pungent, unshakably logical. But he
was inexorable if you violated the Marxian theory, of
which he felt himself to be the guardian.

During our luncheons, Guesde showed us his most
lovable side. Of course his disciple. Professor Bracke,
was present to smooth the waves if necessary. Among
the discussions we had I remember one dealing with
nationalization of industry. Guesde severely con¬
demned its identification in the present society with

Paris: Prelude to the World War

socialization. Genuine socialization, in Jnles Guesde’s
view, could exist only when a real people’s nation
was established by the abolition of classes, when the
government of men was replaced by the administra¬
tion of things. I could not agree with everything he
said, but I was wise enough not to start a discussion
every time that happened. In some respects, Guesde
seemed to be too absolute, too much inclined to “ all
or nothing ”, though he certainly favoured reforms
that would make life easier for the poor and increase
their liberty of action.

The spring of 1914 brought a very exciting time.
It was the period of general elections, which meant
a heavy task for Paoli and for me. We had to organize
the campaign in two constituencies, one of them,
near the fortifications, with no chance for our candi¬
date to be elected, and the other one that of our friend
Bracke, which could be held only by a vigorous fight.
The struggle promised to become a heated one. The
Socialist party had decided to oppose with energy
the government’s bill for a three-year compulsory
military service : to make opposition to this the
central point of the campaign.

It always was and still is one of the characteristics
of the French Socialist movement that all activity in
the constituencies is exclusively honorary and is
carried on without any salaried help, even during the
actual campaign.

Father ” Bracke sent word one day that he wanted
to see me as quickly as possible.

You must take an active part in this campaign,”
he declared. We shall begin with a women’s meet¬
ing at which you are to be the main speaker.”

Toni Sender

Impossible, Father Bracked’

“ But have you not taken part in our discussions ?
Why not address public meetings also ? he persisted.

There are many reasons. You are not accus¬
tomed in this country to women leading a political
campaign ; I am not only a woman, but a German.
This three years’ conscription bill which we are
opposing so bitterly is the French answer to the German
armament bill. It is too delicate a task for a German
woman to argue with a French audience.”

'' Not at all,” was Bracke’s reply. You shall
speak just because you are a woman and a German.
We want to demonstrate that we mean business when
we declare ourselves in favour of the principle of inter¬
nationalism and of woman suffrage.”

It was a fact that women in France at that time did
not have the right to vote—they do not have it even
now. Not all legislators are such convinced feminists
as Bracke. Of course he was acting faithfully ,in the
tradition of the great master, Jules Guesde, in regard¬
ing the campaign as an excellent opportunity for
political education.

My heart beat swiftly when the day of the first meet¬
ing approached. When I came to the hall, it was
already overcrowded. People were standing in the
streets. The experiment, so far, seemed to be success¬
ful—it was something new and people were curious.
We had a number of speakers, some of them novices
like me. Enthusiasm was running high and we all
were affected. The meeting was a great success and
an encouragement for further ones.

One cannot run a campaign exclusively with en¬
thusiasm. It cannot be waged entirely without money,

Paris : Prelude to the World War

but our treasury was completely empty when the
fight started. There was one way out—to approach
wealthy members, patrons. Paoli as well as I rejected
that way because we did not want to place the organ¬
ization under any kind of obligation to such persons.
What then ? The printer had to be paid, almost at
once. Such expenses run very high in France, since
the campaign is fought in large part with elaborate
posters, space for which is provided by the city for all
parties. Both of us finally agreed that we had to use
our own small bank accounts for campaign purposes
and that we would live during those weeks on as little
as possible, in order to place the rest at the party’s
disposal.

Among our outside speakers we were fortunate
enough to secure the greatest speaker I have ever
heard, Jean Jaures. I immediately fell under the speU
of his magnetic personality. This man with his broad,
extensive learning, with an extraordinary wealth of
imagination, whose every word always won the highest
respect wherever he might appear—this genius was at
the same time of a touching simplicity. I felt free
to remind him of our first meeting, years before in
Germany. He had come through Frankfiurt with
Socialists from several countries on his retmrn from
an international convention. He was scheduled to
address a mass meeting in the open air. The Prussian
police showed their most obstructive side and declared
that only speeches in the German language might be
made. But this time they were outwitted. Jaur^
declared himself ready to speak in German ! His
German was not perfect and he was unprepared for
this sudden adventure. But those among us who

i om Mnder

knew French grouped ourselves around the platform,
and as Jaures found himself at a loss for a word in
German, we quickly supplied him with it. The effect
of Jaures’ speech was heightened—the audience ad¬
mired even more the great French orator who could
address them in their own language. In addition they
had the satisfaction of besting the Prussian police.

I have never since listened to a speaker wWe per¬
sonality and speech produced such a powerful effect.
Jaures was squarely built, his stature a reminder of
his peasant origin. His gestures were sparse and
almost heavy. But what a clear, brilliant mind, what
rigorous logic ! A beauty of language, an abundance
of images often taken from nature, a profound idealism
flowed from his words. A master of the word, an
artist of improvisation, Jaures nevertheless did not
simply improvise. Although he used to speak without
notes, every speech had been well thought through
previously. It is not surprising, therefore, that this
man, who made so many speeches, never had to
retract a word ; nor did Jaures the journalist ever
have to rectify a mistake. He was always conscious
of the great responsibility of the written as well as of
the spoken word.

Of course, our fourteenth Paris section, with its
ever-ready eagerness to fight, could not go through
the entire campaign altogether peacefully. As I have
said, the campaign was based on the Socialist opposi¬
tion to the three years’ conscription bill. In the
second constituency where we had to organize the
fight, and where our candidate had no chance of being
elected, our section had decided to retire our candi¬
date before the second ballot (necessary when none

44

Paris: Prelude to the World War

of the candidates received a majority in the first
ballot) without declaring ourselves for either of the
two remaining candidates. The candidate of the
Radical party, whose meetings we had followed, had
never committed himself clearly for or against the
conscription bill. Why should we advise our voters
to give a preference to this non-committal candidate,
we argued. When Jaures learned of our decision, he
opposed it strongly in the Humanite. “ We must give
preference to the progressive as against the reactionary
candidate,” he urged. We were shocked. Immedi¬
ately we sent Jaures an angry reply. It is possible
that in our youthful ardour our language overstepped
proper bounds.

The last meeting planned for our other candidate.
Professor Bracke, was to reach its height by a demon¬
stration, with Jaures again as the main speaker. The
meeting started. One speaker after another took the
floor. Jaur& was not there yet. I looked at Paoli—
he was seeking my eyes. Would he come ? Had we
gone too far in our reply to his editorial ? I did not
feel at all comfortable. AU of a sudden there was a
movement in the hall—the crowd was cheering Jaures !
He had come, and he had arranged to make oiu meet¬
ing his last of the evening—naturally he had to address
many that night—^in order not to have to rush away.
He wanted to stay with us after the meeting in order
to show that he did not mind our opposition. A
genuine democrat and a magnanimous man !

How far removed was Jaures from the faintest trace
of haughtiness ! Every meeting with him was, there¬
fore, a real experience—^especially the one to which a
circle of his friends invited me when Jaures came

Toni Sender

back from his trip to South America. On his way he
had visited Portugal, the young republic, and had
been received by its parliament with all possible
honours. We were all listening breathlessly to his
account of his experiences, when he suddenly interr
rupted himself. He had seen a comrade take from his
pocket a photograph of his litde daughter and show it
to his friend. Jaures wanted to see the child’s picture.
He had so much warm feeling for the plain, human
side of life !

What happy hours when late in the night of that
April Sunday the election returns became known.
Aim in arm, Bracke with us, we went singing through
the streets—our fight against the conscription bUl
crowned by a marvellous success. One hundred and
two Socialist deputies had been elected—Bracke
among them. The people had approved our demands
for peace.

A very short time afterwards the shots of Serajevo
alarmed the world. Greater mischief was anticipated.
But we did not abandon hope for the maintenance of
peace. Most opportune seemed to be the International
Socialist Congress called for the late summer of 1914
at Vienna. This congress was to deal with a motion
presented by the French Socialist, Edouard Vaillant,
and the old English leader, Keir Hardie—a motion
that foresaw the necessity for the declaration of a
general strike in case of war. The French party, faith¬
ful to its democratic tradition, gave its party member¬
ship an opportunity at a national convention to discuss
the agenda of the Vienna congress. I was a delegate
at this Paris convention, which later made me a
delegate to the Vienna congress. I still see before my

.Paris: Prelude to the World War

eyes the figure of the aged, venerable fighter, Vaillant^
the former Blanquist and member of the Paris Com¬
mune. All gave him due respect, but we nevertheless
could not shut our ears to the counter-arguments
which Jules Guesde presented to the convention with
deep passion and a penetrating logic. Guesde declared
that calling a general strike in the event of war would
be possible only in countries with a very advanced
labour movement, with the result that backward
countries, unhampered by an effective strike, would
be given great advantages. This would be a result
certainly not intended by the authors of the motion.

But when the delegates to the Paris convention
separated, there was already doubt whether any of us
would have the opportunity to go to Vienna. On the
international horizon dark clouds were gathering.
Temporarily the attention of the French, especially
that of the Parisians, was captured by another event :
the trial of Madame Caillaux, wife of a French cabinet
minister. Madame Caillaux had armed herself with
a revolver, had gone to the editorial department of
the reactionary Paris paper Figaro^ had obtained
admission to the editor-in-chief, Calmette, and had
shot him dead. What had provoked this extra¬
ordinary act? Calmette had been carrying on a
malicious campaign of slander in his paper against
Joseph Caillaux and had uttered calumnies against his
married life. Most Parisians sided with Madame
Caillaux, who had not told her husband of her inten¬
tion before committing the murder. All Paris talked
of the trial as if the life and liberty of Madame Caillaux
were much more important that the impending
decision for war or peace.

Toni Sender

In our circle, of course, everyone was concentrating
on the development of the international scene. Im¬
patiently we were awaiting the return of our delegates
to the meeting of the executive of the Socialist Inter¬
national, called in great haste. Father ” Bracke had
told me he would see Jaures immediately after his return.

Would war really come? As I was wont to do
during critical days, I spent much time in the streets,
trying to catch the temper of the people. On the
Grand Boulevards the Camelots du roi were raging.
Noisy young royalists shouted the slogan “ A Berlin ! ’’
The nationalistic mob already seemed to be loose.
But when I entered my friends’ circle the same evening,
I met a different atmosphere. Here they had not
yet abandoned hope for the preservation of peace.
Were not the masses of the people demonstrating for
peace in all parts of Germany ? And here in France
Jaures was using all his influence to maintain peace,
asking the government not only to moderate its own
measures but to influence also its Russian ally towards
a temperate course. As long as Jaures hoped—we
were hopeful.

So we sat together the evening of this last July day
of 1914, My friends knew that my position was an
especially difficult and painful one. As a German, I
could not stay in France in case of war without being
put in a concentration camp. Many kind offers were
made to me—that I should stay in France in any
event, that comrades would hide me from the author¬
ities, I must not leave them, they urged. Deeply
touched by such sincere friendship, I nevertheless de¬
cided I could not place my friends in an embarrassing
situation should the catastrophe really happen.

Paris: Prelude to the World War

But all hope was not yet abandoned. Jaures was
still there. He did not despair. Bracke, in those days
my most solicitous friend, advised me not to leave as
long as there was still a spark of hope. On July 31 I
was stiU in Paris. My employer advised me to depart
immediately—a few horns before, telephone connec¬
tions with Germany had been cut. Germany had
already declared a state of “ war readiness ”. The
tension was becoming unbearable. When I finally
returned to my friends, last hopes seemed to dwindle.
But StiU we waited for news from Jaures. We
waited. . . .

Shrilly and horribly the silence was torn : “Jaures
is assassinated ! ” Impossible that this could be true
—^that they would so soon begin to kill their own
people, to destroy the best of them aU ! It was so
senseless, it could not be true. But then came the
details of the abominable murder, removing every
doubt. The old slander of the jingoes against the
noblest friend of the people finally had armed the
hand of one of them. The jingoes wanted war—
therefore, the best friend of peace ,had first to be
removed. Now even my dear friend Bracke urged
me to make my decision.

One possibility of staying in France was offered to
me by a very dear friend who was nearest to my heart
during those happy Paris years. He was sever^ years
older than I, shared my interests, and had had a
richer experience than I. A student of pharmacy, he
was on the eve of completing his studies. Would I
not marry him so that we would be able to stay
together? I would not have to run away. I hesi¬
tated. Under the circumstances, I was afraid that

Toni Sender

marriage would make me too dependent upon my
friend, economically and otherwise. I knew myself
well enough to realize that it might be too severe a
strain upon my strong sense of independence and
might destroy the harmony we had enjoyed until then.

I told my friend of the difficulties I envisaged. He
argued very strongly against them but showed a
touching understanding of my nature. Finally, in the
interest of all, and against the will of my friends, I
decided on departure.

All that was dear to me had to be abandoned.
However, at that hour it was not the idea of personal
loss that kept my mind in turmoil, but the realization
that these idealistic young friends were to be sent to
the bloody batdefields, that they woirld suffer and
many of them perhaps never retmm, that they would
face the shells and bombs which my compatriots
would rain down upon them. Gould there be a more
cruel, a more useless fate !

Ill

. FIGHTING FOR PEACE IN WARTIME
GERMANY

All connections with Germany are interrupted/’
I was told at the station.

“ Already? ’’ I asked in surprise.

The Germans did it.”

Go to Belgium or to Switzerland/’ someone
suggested. I decided on Switzerland, fortunately.
Belgium had already been invaded by German troops,
but we did not know that yet.

This war cannot last very long/’ a French officer
on the train, on his way to fortified Belfort, told me.

It will be a war of technique and material, and we
win crash them.”

I had to change trains several times. Mobilization
was already in full swing. It was heartrending to see
families with many children, fleeing the country where
they had lived happily. The husband would on the
morrow be a German soldier, fighting against people
who had been his friends.

I went to Basel to be near the German frontier.
All border traffic was interrupted. Naturally I had
no passport. No woman had one before the war. I
tried to cross the border by walking. Impossible.

Toni Sender

. Show me that you are a German/’ was the roughly
spoken demand.

have only my language to prove it.”

The officer was not interested.

We don’t need women. The men who have to go
to the front come first on the trains ! ”

The same experience was repeated at the German
consulate. I went to see relatives, a Swiss family.
The boy was preparing to join the army. I spent all
day in that Swiss town. A second day passed similarly.
Feeling in German Switzerland was running highly
pro-German. I had to be careful to utter no critical
word, and the tension proved too strong for me to be
able to stay there.

The fourth of August brought a terrible blow.
The German Socialists had voted the war credits !
Everything seemed to coUapse. How could they ? ”
I argued with myself. '' Couldn’t they see the
Austrian responsibility, beginning with the provoca¬
tive ultimatum to Serbia ? Without approval of the
German government Vienna would never have dared
to go as far as it did.”

More days of waiting followed. My parents, not
knowing where I was, must be in great distress.
I sent them telegrams and letters but doubted if
these would reach them. (They did not. Weeks
later they all arrived together, long after I had
appeared.)

Three weeks in Switzerland and I became uncon¬
trollably impatient, I looked up the consul and told
him, I am ready to stay here as long as it pleases
you, but you will have to pay my expenses. Soon I
shall have no more money.” That seemed to impress

Fighting for Peace in Wartime Germar^

Mm. After some more negotiations I received a paper
authorizing me to walk over the border.

In Leopoldshohe, the first German town, I climbed
into a freight car crowded with German troops on
their way to the front. Most of them were married
men and not too enthusiastic about fighting. For
hours the car did not move. It was a hot August day ;
our car was in the sun, and the air became hotter and
fouler. There was no water, except that wMch the
soldiers had brought in their bottles. They shared it
with me.

What a trip ! There were only military trains,
freight cars, and I never knew whether I had boarded
the right train. I had to rely on my knowledge of
the district, jumping off at the next stop when I saw
the train head away from my route. For two days
and nights I lived on the meals the soldiers gave me.
There was no sleep, no fresh air.

My parents were surprised and still more relieved
when I suddenly stood before them.

“ The war cannot last very long,” I thought of the
words the French officer had spoken to me. “ I shall
stay here with you until it is over, and then, if possible,
go back to France.”

Our doctor, learning of my arrival, came to ask
me to help in the military hospital, where he was
surgeon-major. I should receive quick training and
should prove myself useful, he said.

“Heal the wounds of the war? ” I said to myself.
“ Perhaps that is what we should do,” I agreed.
They took me to an operating-room. I had to
assist there, and to record the details of wounds and
treatment.

Fighting for Peace in Wartime Germar^

him. After some more negotiations I received a paper
authorizing me to walk over the border.

In Leopoldshohe, the first German town, I climbed
into a freight car crowded with German troops on
their way to the front. Most of them were married
men and not too enthusiastic about fighting. For
hours the car did not move. It was a hot August day ;
our car was in the sun, and the air became hotter and
fouler. There was no water, except that which the
soldiers had brought in their bottles. They shared it
with me.

What a trip ! There were only military trains,
freight cars, and I never knew whether I had boarded
the right train. I had to rely on my knowledge of
the district, jumping off at the next stop when I saw
the train head away from my route. For two days
and nights I lived on the meals the soldiers gave me.
There was no sleep, no fresh air.

My parents were smprised and still more reheved
when I suddenly stood before them.

“ The war cannot last very long,” I thought of the
words the French officer had spoken to me. “ I shall
stay here with you until it is over, and then, if possible,
go back to France.”

Our doctor, learning of my arrival, came to ask
me to help in the military hospital, where he was
surgeon-major. I should receive quick training and
should prove myself useful, he said.

“ Hed the wounds of the war ? ” I said to myself.
“ Perhaps that is what we should do,” I agreed.
They took me to an operating-room. I had to
assist there, and to record the details of wounds and
treatment.

Toni Sender

Wounded soldiers arrived daily. Most of them were
youngsters. They told of their war experience with¬
out realizing the cruelty of their language. In the first
weeks a young man, apparently not badly wounded,
was brought into the operating-room, his mouth
gaping open.

He cannot close it,” said the orderly.

The young soldier’s eyes looked terribly frightened.
After he had left the room, one of the doctors said :
'' Tetanus, and we have no anti-tetanus serum here
yet. I shall wire for it. Let us hope it will not be
too late.” He did everything he could. The young
soldier was isolated and well taken care of—but the
serum came too late. It was our first death.

Most of the wounded, it was plain, were mighty
glad to be out of the trenches and not eager for their
wounds to heal too quickly. Heimatschuss —^homeland
shot—they used to call a more serious wound that
kept them for a long period in the hospital far behind
the iSront. But most of them were sent back to the
trenches, in spite of ail their efforts to stay away.
And I had to help send them out again 1 Soon I saw
through our illusion about healing wounds ”. No,
our function actually was not to heal wounds, but to
make men fit to be sent into battle again—-perhaps to
death. I felt I could not go on with this work, help¬
ing to cure men only to have them sent out anew as
cannon fodder.

The central office of the metal concern for which
I had worked in Paris had learned of my return to
Germany and had asked me to come to Frankfurt.
They needed my services. At their first request I was
hesitant—^but after I had made up my mind about

Fighting for Peace in Wartime Germm^

the experience in the military hospital, I answered
the summons.

The heads of the firm knew of my Socialist con¬
victions. I thought it my duty to tell them also of
my attitude toward the war. I therefore never felt
uncomfortable in my relationships in business, for
these were always based on frankness and honesty,
and my employers reciprocated in kind.

Do , you think you have any talent for organiz¬
ing? ’’ N.S., one of my employers, asked me one day.

We should like to have you organize a new depart¬
ment of special importance just now.^’

I replied that I thought I could handle the assign¬
ment. I outlined my ideas on procedure, and they
were approved. It was a delicate task. From 1914
to 1918 almost all economic life, particularly that of
a metal concern, was concentrated on war purposes.
The new department I was entrusted with dealt with
the most confidential records of manufacturing and
financial transactions. Its scope included relations
with the war ministry and the building of new plants
for war purposes. The department also supervised the
operation of plants already owned by the company.
Besides my departmental work, I had to attend to
much of the foreign-language correspondence. One
of my employers discovered that I had a gift for under¬
standing legal matters, a discovery that led to addi¬
tion^ duties for me.

Nobody working for a living during the World
War could escape some work connected with produc¬
tion of war materials. My position, however, was
somewhat more difficult than that of a factory worker,
because it gave me knowledge of many secrets that

Toni Sender

would have interested the anti-war movement. What
was to be my attitude ? Was it to be a double
allegiance, one to the anti-war movement and another
to the firm ? Should I “ bore from within ’’ for the
sake of my cause ? No/’ I reasoned. I must
answer confidence with confidence. If they trust me
in the firm, I must show them that I deserve it, I
cannot serve my cause by deceit. Objectionable
means cannot further a great idea.” Once this view¬
point was clear, I resisted every temptation to use for
the sake of my anti-war activities any knowledge
obtained in the execution of my business duty.

Although my first reaction to the voting of the war
credits by the German Socialists was a determination
to give up my membership in the party, I dropped this
idea of isolation when I returned to Frankfurt. Some¬
one in Biebiich had already told me of an opposition
within the Social Democratic party and had given me
the name of one of its leaders, Robert Dissmann, of
the Socialist provincial organization.

Robert was one of the most interesting figures in
the German labour movement and a person whom I
came to respect as a leader and to hold in affection
as a man. Of a lower middle-class family in the Lower
Rhine district, he had had only the education of a
three-class village school. In his teens, however, he
had become an official of the Metal Workers Union
in Ms home district, and a successful and popular
one. He was the most indefatigable worker I have
ever known. When you saw a man with a long, down¬
ward hanging, blond moustache, Ms extra-large brief¬
case stuffed with documents and books, rusMng
through the streets with his clothes hanging loosely

Fighting for Peace in Wartime Germany

about hiruj it was Robert on the job. With a gay,
cheerful temperament and an excellent sense of
humour, nature surely had destined him for an easier,
more joyous life than circumstances now permitted
him to lead. He had devoted his entire life to the idea
of the liberation of labour and was ready to sacrifice
all personal advantages for this goal. There was no
man more devoted to the cause. But the same sacri¬
fices he asked from himself, he insisted every other
member of the party should be willing to make. You
had to give your night’s sleep, risk your job, your
liberty, your life, just as he did, wthout expecting
any special praise. It was your duty—that was all.
Since he set himself such a code of pure devotion,
none of his closer friends dared to refuse his demands
for service. His demands were pitiless and so inexo¬
rable that they sometimes ruined our health—but no
one could reproach him. He certainly was one of the
best organizers the German labour movement has
known. What a pity that he is missing now when the
most difficult organizing job of all times is before us
—that of organizing the underground movement in
Germany. Of what inestimable service his rich
imagination and special talent, combined with his
unselfishness, could be now !

When I met Robert Dissmann in his office, he had
just come from a meeting with Rosa Luxemburg,
shortly before she was jailed. He was in a cheerful
mood, encouraged by good news that Rosa had
brought. I told him that I was looking for Socialists
who had not yet forgotten the spirit of the great
anti-war demonstrations in the last days of July.

You have come to the right place. We are gather-

Toni Sender

ing together all those who think as yon do. Do you
know that not all Socialist members of the Reichstag
were in favour of voting the war credits ? Fourteen
were opposed to them, and among these fourteen was
Hugo Haase, the president of the group and of the
party. He was forced, in the Reichstag, to read the
declaration justifying the majority’s attitude, but he
had previously fought the majority with all his vigour.
Opposition to the majority’s attitude is flaring up all
over the country. We must stick together and spread
our ideas in spite of the state of siege. Are you ready
to be at our disposal as one of our speakers ? ”

He expressed so much optimism that I could not
resist. In the first party meeting that followed, the
member of the Reichstag for Frankfurt, Dr. M.
Quarck, defended the majority’s vote for the war
credits, emphasizing especially the czarist danger.
I was the first speaker in the discussion period. I
stressed the imperialist ambitions of the Pan-Germans
and of the Kaiser, arguing the absurdity of the spectacle
of the Kaiser, at the head of the war and government
forces, fighting against the imperialism of other nations.
Although the majority was in Dr. Quarck’s favour,
the unknown young woman was well received by
the audience—a reaction which made the doctor so
nervous that he permitted himself some disparaging
personal remarks.

“ Who is this young person who comes to give us
lessons on imperialism ? I have never seen her work¬
ing here in our movement,” he said.

The audience protested. One man stood up to
declare : ‘‘ I know Toni Sender. I don’t agree with
her, but still must give testimony for her, for I saw her

Fighting for Peace in\ Wartime Germany

work very hard for the movement in Paris/' It was
a member of the German Club in Paris who also had
escaped in time. This remark settled things in my
favour. They could no longer suspect me.

But the result was that party meetings became
rarer. ' Practices within the party convinced me that
even in the German labour movement the genuine
spirit of democracy was still unknown—^it was under¬
stood only as the right of the majority to carry through
its decision. Minority rights were disregarded. Was
it not a legitimate demand to have a speaker of the
minority or the Reichstag group defend opposition to
the war credits ? It was never granted. Every party
meeting became a more disagreeable experience. As
our influence seemed to increase^ opportunities for
discussion were more and more curtailed. Finally it
became altogether impossible to explain to the members
the viewpoint of the opponents of the war. But we
would not let the opposition be entirely suppressed.
Robert found a way out.

“ Toni, you must help us," he said one day. We
shall organize a local branch of the National Federation
of Proletarian Freethinkers. This organization has no
branch here. Its national leadership is opposed to war
and would not mind our using the organization's
protecting roof for our anti-war activity. I have a
long list of names of possible members. WiU you look
them up in the evenings and try to bring them in ?
But you must be very careful not to let them know
our real purpose before you find out how they stand
on the war. I must leave it to your discretion to bring
in the right kind of people."

What could I do but accept the task ? It was a good

Toni Sender

exercise in political strategy. Some of my listeners
took the objects of the freethinkers quite seriously
and started to discuss with me related philosophical
problems. Others understood rapidly, could read
between the lines. Many promised to come to our first
meeting, and they did come. The jobs assigned to me
for this assembly were a speech on the separation of
state and church in France and an explanation of the
aims and statutes of the Proletarian Freethinkers. Of
the latter I did not know much more than most in the
audience. The necessary documents had not arrived
on time. Even to the present day I do not under¬
stand why the workers must have a freethinkers^
organization of their own. Nevertheless, I must have
answered the many pointed questions satisfactorily,
for after ample discussion the decision to found the
group won almost unanimous approval.

From this start until the founding of the Independent
Socialist party at Easter, 1917, the freethinkers’ group
was the rallying-place of the opponents of war. It
was not always easy to meet. Many persons active
in our group were well-known political leaders, and
very soon the police began to take an interest in us.
Furious defenders of the war denounced our real
purpose to the owners of assembly halls, and it became
ever more difficult to obtain a meeting-place. Many
times, when a meeting with a speaker from Berlin
had been arranged, I would be told, when I came to
the hall, that the place could not be put at our dis¬
posal. It was useless to argue with the inn-keeper.
The only thing to do was to look for another place.
Yet, despite every obstacle, we succeeded in holding
all our scheduled meetings.

Fighting for Peace in Wartime Germany^

The military authorities also began to become
curious about our activity. As our ranks increased,
denunciations to the authorities began. One after
another the men, until then assigned to important war
work at home, were suddenly called to the trenches.
They knew they risked their lives in joining us. No¬
body who came to the Proletarian Freethinkers in the
first war years and to the Independent Socialist party
after 1917 expected any personal advantage from
these affiliations—exactly the contrary : only danger,
if not worse. Only reliable, unselfish, and idealistic
men and women joined us. They created in these
organizations a spirit of comradeship such as I have
never met again. An intimate tie for life was created.
I am convinced that none of these people who survived
the war and are living now in the Hitler hell, has
given up. They are characters of steel—the best of
the Germans.

From the beginning of my anti-war activity I tried
to remain in contact with comrades abroad. Especially
those in France proved to be genuine friends. We dis¬
cussed the burning issues in letters, some of them
written in the French trenches and sent via neutral
countries. Though we could not entirely agree in our
conceptions, I rediscovered the old willingness to
understand and to appreciate the other’s point of view.

Anti-war actmty receives its final justification only
when it is international. I learned of attempts to
come to such an international understanding. Women
were the first to undertake the daring enterprise.
Under the influence of Rosa Luxemburg and with the
assiduous help of Clara Zetkin, the great Socialist
woman leader, with both of whom I kept in touch, the

Toni Sender

first International Anti-War conference was organized
in Berne in the spring of 1915. Before going to the
conference Robert Dissmann and I went to see Clara
Zetkin at her home in Wilhelmshohe, on the hillg
near Stuttgart. We were told to be careful because
Clara’s house was being watched. We saw no one
about. Clara, who was living with her second hus¬
band, the painter H. Zundel, in a pretty little house
set in the middle of a garden, was at that time still
editor of the Socialist women’s newspaper. Die
Gleichheit (Equality), and in close contact with Rosa
Luxemburg. She was one of the most active fighters
against war and very bitter towards anyone who did
not fully agree with her views. We discussed measures
to be taken to organize the opposition in south¬
western Germany, the agenda of the Berne conference,
and, finally, how to spread the decisions of this gather¬
ing, should it succeed. Clara again and again became
excited when the talk turned to persons whom she
considered traitors, and these included not only those
who had voted the war credits but also the opponents
of war who were not sufficiently irreconcilable.
Robert, fortunately, in his gentle way succeeded in
quieting her, and we came away well satisfied.

But in Berne we met unexpected difficulties. We
were certainly pleased to have not only German but
also French and English women delegates meet for a
common purpose while the cannon thundered on
all .fronts. Women were the first to demonstrate that
the spirit of intematiDnaKsm could not be killed
entirely. The French delegate, Louise Saummoneau,
was not sent by her party but joined us on her own
responsibility. It was her courageous campaign

Fighting for Peace in Wartime Germ

against the war which later caused her country to jail
her for a long period.

I had a long discussion with the two official British
delegates, Margaret Bondfield (in later years the Minister
of Labour in the MacDonald cabinet) and Marion
Philipps, the very intelligent leader of the women’s
trade union movement in Great Britain. They insisted
that Britain had gone to war in order tO' defend little
Belgium, whose neutrahty had been violated by the
Germans. , Although I had protested most vigorously
against this violation, I doubted the generosity of a
British government which had tolerated so many
injustices in the world and which, itself, had com¬
mitted some of them. It seemed to me more probable
that Britain had entered the war for the sake of her
own interests. Since then, developments have, un¬
fortunately, proved me right.

Nikolai Lenin, pulling wires behind the scenes,
created some difficulties at Berne, The majority group
in the conference demanded international action of
the women in all countries to put an immediate end
to the war and to reach a peace without annexations
or conquest. This was the main issue on which we
had gathered. But the Russian women, directed by
Lenin from another room of the Berne Volkshaus, intro¬
duced a completely different resolution. It called
for immediate splits in our respective parties—definite
breaks with the majority Socialists, who supported
the war. All of us were opposed to forcing splits.
Clara Zetkin, then in precarious health, was terribly
upset. Many of us feared for her life. And she, as well
as other delegates who knew him, were far from pleased
when Karl Radek, present as an aid to Lenin, would

Toni Sender

come and sit with us. We knew him too well as
a despicable character to want him as a member.
Lenin’s obstructionism was finally defeated. We did
not wish to separate ourselves from the masses by
order of Lenin, for it was among these masses that our
agitation for peace must be conducted. It was not
until 1920 that Lenin succeeded in his programme, this
time with Clara at his side.

But the first international meeting after the out¬
break of the war, arranged by women, ended in har¬
mony. It was to be the springboard of the struggle for
peace.

Heading homeward, I again came to Leopoldshohe,
the first German town across the Swiss border. I
opened my suitcase for the customs officer, took out
my toilet bag, and gave it to him without any nervous¬
ness.

“ These are my toilet articles and the rest are dresses
and underwear. That is all I have.”

Amiably the officer returned the bag. He glanced
at my luggage.

“ Everything is all right. Good-bye.” Of course
the officer had no idea that he had held an ominous
manuscript in his hands.

The manifesto of the Berne conference was safe !
Now it could be printed and spread. Robert Diss-
mann would do what was necessary. An old friend in
Baden had his printing plant ready. My task was
to organize the distribution. That would not be too
difficult. Preparatory work had already been done.
Before my trip to Switzerland I had started to organize
the wor^g women opposed to war. Ehzabeth S., a
proletarian, an upright and courageous person, was

Fighting Jor Peace in Wartime Germany

my best helper. We met every fortnight. I gave a
short report of the news that the authorities did not see
fit to print. Most of these women were the wives of
soldiers. Their loved ones were in the trenches. At
home they endured near famine. Some of them were
working in munitions factories. They had become
emancipated and independent. Within a short period
life had taught them what nobody had explained to
them before. They were brave and courageous. Soon
after my return to Frankfurt we met. We were proud
that women had organized the Berne conference.
Elizabeth Tegan to complete the plan for distribution
of the leaflet—^for which the mflitary authorities were
already looking.

“ Listen, this is how we shall handle it,” said Eliza¬
beth. “ Everyone among us has her assigned district.
We shall wear long capes, as many of us as have them,
to conceal the leaflets. If you haven’t one, Toni, I
can lend you one.. The work is to be started each day
after sunset. Inconspicuously, we must see to it that
the leaflets find their way into the homes. Everyone
must use her own brains. Our pride must be not in
being arrested, but in doing the job successfully.”

The plan was followed. On the appointed evening
the distribution went forward over the entire city.
None of us was caught or arrested that night. But the
next day people began to talk about the sudden
appearance of anti-war propaganda. The police were
forced into activity. Two of our women were seized.
I was not yet suspected. Nothing could be proved,
and our two friends were released. The work was
resumed.

Scarcely had we forgotten the excitement over the

Fighting for Peace in Wartime Germany

my best helper. We met every fortnight. I gave a
short report of the news that the authorities did not see
fit to print. Most of these women were the wives of
soldiers. Their loved ones were in the trenches. At
home they endured near famine. Some of them were
working in munitions factories. They had become
emancipated and independent. Within a short period
life had taught them what nobody had explained to
them before. They were brave and courageous. Soon
after my return to Frankfurt we met. We were proud
that women had organized the Berne conference.
Elizabeth Tegan to complete the plan for distribution
of the leaflet—^for which the military authorities were
already looking.

“ Listen, this is how we shall handle it,” said Eliza¬
beth. Everyone among us has her assigned district.
We shall wear long capes, as many of us as have them,
to conceal the leaflets. If you haven’t one, Toni, I
can lend you one.^ The work is to be started each day
after sunset. Inconspicuously, we must see to it that
the leaflets find their way into the homes. Everyone
must use her own brains. Our pride must be not in
being arrested, but in doing the job successfully.”

The plan was followed. On the appointed evening
the distribution went forward over the entire city.
None of us was caught or arrested that night. But the
next day people began to talk about the sudden
appearance of anti-war propaganda. The police were
forced into activity. Two of our women were seized.
I was not yet suspected. Nothing could be proved,
and our two friends were released. The work was
resumed.

Scarcely had we forgotten the excitement over the

Toni Sender

leaflet, when I received word from the customs office.
A package had arrived for me from Switzerland. I-
was to come to the office to pay the necessary duty.
What might it be ? I did not expect anything from
abroad. Two large packages were brought before
me in the customs office. I had a presentiment as to
the contents—prohibited literature. The officer un¬
wrapped the parcels and out came dozens of books.
My heart was beating wildly. Fortunately that could
not be detected by the officer. I was relieved when I
saw on the paper cover the title Das perjide Albion^ the
slogan used against England by the German jingoes
during the war. Rapidly the officer looked through
the book.

'' Seems to be good patriotic stuff,’’ he said.

Certainly, officer,” was my answer.

Had he been a little more careful, however, he
would have discovered under the paper cover the real
title, TAccme^ the famous book written by a German
and accusing Germany, on the basis of authentic docu¬
ments, of her share of the war guilt. Had the officer
discovered this title, my immediate arrest would have
resulted. Sascha and Wally Grumbach had had these
packages forwarded to me. I was to send the book to
a number of highly interested and influential persons
in Germany. This explanation came later in a letter,
not directly addressed to me. This time again the
experiment was successful, but the frivolous Grumbachs
repeated it twice and finally brought me into serious
danger, from which I escaped mainly on account of
my young, innocent appearance.

Gradually more and more of our male comrades
became known to the military authorities, and one

Fighting for Peace in Wartime Germany .

after another was sent into the army. It was a terrible
blow when Robert Dissmann’s turn came. He was the
soul of the movement, its active spirit in all south¬
western Germany. The most resourceful in new ideas
and methods, he also had the contacts with the Berlin
leaders. He was our most inspiring fighter. We were
almost desperate.

Don’t lose courage, children,” he said in his
Rhenish dialect. I shall not go to the trenches. I
am sick. I shall remain your adviser as much as
possible. Don’t lose courage, I shall manage to come
back. Meantime, Toni has to do my job. Try to
keep in touch with me.”

He kept his promise. Soon he was in a military
hospital. I had to procure him medical advice. The
army authorities did not trust him and sent him to a
distant, isolated place which could be reached from
the nearest railroad station only by a two-hour w'alk
across- a mountain. I had given him a promise—to
visit him, if possible, every week. And I did it in all
kinds of weather. I would stay the night in a peasant’s
house in the village. Early in the morning I started
on my lonely hike, climbing the mountain through a
dense forest. Arriving at length at the army hospital,
I would look at Robert’s window for a signal that the
coast was clear—a white towel hung out as a flag. If
it 'was there, I could enter. If not, there was danger
and I'had to wait, sometimes in the open, sometimes
in the soldiers’ canteen. More than once I had to
travel back late in the evening without having seen
him, crossing the mountain in the dark night. The
entire effort had been in vain. I could not enter the
hospital.

' , Fighting^ for Peace in Wartime Germany ' ' .

after another was,sent into the army. It was a terrible
blow when Robert Dissmann’s turn came. He was the
soul of the movement, its active spirit in all south¬
western Germany. The most resourceful in new ideas
and methods, he also had the contacts with the Berlin
leaders. He was our most inspiring fighter. We were
almost desperate.

Don’t lose courage, children,” he said in his
Rhenish dialect. I shall not go to the trenches. I
am sick. I shall remain your adviser as much as
possible. Don’t lose courage, I shall manage to come
back. Meantime, Toni has to do my job. Try to
keep in touch with me.”

He kept his promise. Soon he was in a military
hospital. I had to procure him medical ad\dce. The
army authorities did not trust him and sent him to a
distant, isolated place which could be reached from
the nearest railroad station only by a two-hour walk
across' a mountain. I had given Mm a promise—to
visit Mm, if possible, every week. And I did it in all
kinds of weather. I would stay the night in a peasant’s
house, in the village. Early in the mormng I started
on my lonely Mke, climbing the mountain through a
dense forest. Arriving at length at the army hospital,
I would look at Robert’s window for a signal that the
coast was clear—a wMte towel hung out as a flag. If
if was there, I could enter. If not, there was danger
and I' had to wait, sometimes in the open, sometimes
in . the soldiers’ canteen. More than once I had to
travel back late in the evening without having seen
Mm, crossing the mountain in the dark night. The
entire effort had been in vain. I could not enter the
hospital.

1 oni Mnaer

If access was possible, I gave a short, whispered
report. Other soldiers were in the same room. In not
much more than an hour, all affairs had to be dis¬
cussed, plans for the next period made. Robert never
lost his good humour, his vivacity, and his confidence
that he would get out of the army. But what trials he
had to go through ! His last place of confinement was
a mental asylum, where I could visit him only after
obtaining a number of permits from military authorities
and where he played his part so perfectly that I was
deeply worried lest this time he was really affected.

During the entire period of Robert’s absence the
work of the organization for that part of Germany
was in my hands. The better to co-ordinate our
activity, we had carefully prepared a conference for
the whole region—the Rhineland, the Lower Rhine,
Baden, Wurttemberg. Everything seemed to be very
well arranged. We thought ourselves unusually
shrewd in selecting a meeting-place in the neighbour¬
hood of police headquarters in Frankfurt. Some
prominent political representatives from Ber lin took
part. It was a sunny Sunday morning. Our guests
had all arrived. Everything seemed to go smoothly.
There was no interference by the police, and that made
us confident. One of our friends. Dr. Notter, had pre¬
pared a speech on swamp-draining. That was the
declared purpose of our meeting, to discuss measures
for increasing the agricultural production of blockaded
Germany.

I had just taken the addresses of all our guests and
those of some valuable contacts they recommended,
when suddenly the door opened and the chief of
Frankfurt’s political police entered with a dozen

68

Fighting for Peace in Wartime Germany

plain-clothes men. I was sitting at the chairman’s
table and fortunately recognized the intruders im¬
mediately. Within a moment the list of names had
vanished. The police approached our table.

“ What is the purpose of this meeting ? ' Why have
you not notified the police, as was your duty ? ” Dr.
Neubert, the chief, demanded.

“ We are discussing swamp-draining as a necessary
national measure,” I replied.

^Dr. Neubert looked at Dr. Notter, who showed him
his manuscript, then at me.

“ You interested in swamp-draining. Miss Sender ?
That does not convince me. We shall have to take
the names and addresses of all persons present.”

Immediately this was done, with the result that
five or six of our visitors, well-known persons in Ger¬
many, were arrested and brought to the poKce station.
The meeting was broken up.

Those of us who had escaped met in the street.
What now ?

“ One of us must attend to the job of having our
prisoners fireed. The rest must carry through the con¬
ference,” I said.

“ But how can we do that ? Nobody will give us a
meeting-place.”

“ Nature will give it to us,” I retorted. “ AU our
friends must be informed of the exact place in the
near-by forest, a somewhat remote spot. We shall post
our guards around to warn us in case anything sus¬
picious is noticed.”

^ This plan was carried through. Again we met, this
time in the evening and better on our guard. Stand¬
ing, we discussed and settled all our business undis-

Tmi Sender

turbed. In small groups we retxirned to the city. The
next day all our prisoners were released. Nothing
could be proved against them. The person who had
denounced us to the police could not have known very

much. . ,

Immediately after this incident I received another
warning, A friend of mine in Berlin, Toni G., regularly
sent me all available material on the opposition to
the war, especially that of the Spartakus group, a
radical movement sponsored by Rosa Luxemburg.
Through fiiends I received a letter from Berlin saying
that Toni was arrested and in jail. Why ? Without
my knowledge my mail had been censored, and the
authorities had discovered that Toni was dispatching
the clandestine material. The letters I received did
not show any traces of having been opened. But still
I felt a terrible responsibility. Toni was a very
delicate person. How would she be able to endure
months of jail ?

I decided to go at once to Berlin to look up Hugo
Haase, the party chairman, with whom I had been
corresponding for some time. Haase was a famous
lawyer and I asked him to take Toni’s case and to try
to get her free as soon as possible. He declared
himself ready to do everything possible, not as a
lawyer for money’s sake but as a comrade. While
I was in Berlin, he saw her and arranged that she
receive some reading material. But it was several
months before she was freed.

Meanwhile all my friends were informed that my
address was no longer safe. We went on correspond¬
ing, of course, but through other addresses.

As the military situation became worse, the German

Fighting for Peace in Wartime Germany

authorities became more nervous. A number. of our
friends ■ were arrested, among them the chairman
of our Proletarian Freethinkers. Ever}^one was sur¬
prised that I was still free, most of all myself. I was,
however, not mistaken about the deep interest the
police and the courts were taking in me. A number
of times the police searched my home. The last time
they came with twelve men. But all searches were in
vain. Since the incident with Toni G., I was prepared
to receive them at any moment. Everything was in
order at home—no letters, no copies, no literature.
Only those who have experienced it can know what
it means to carry on work and correspondence with
an empty desk. Everything written had to be hidden
in safe places outside my home, in spots not easily
reached. The greatest difficulty was presented by the
lists of addresses I had to keep. It was one of my tasks
every Monday night to forward the Mitteilungshlatt^
edited in Berlin, to all our groups in south-western
Germany. This weekly was published by the Berlin
Socialists who opposed the war, and it carried valuable
information not otherwise available. How many
nights we worked straight through to get all the material
out of the house !

I worked day and night without any signs of fatigue.
I gave my employers no cause for accusing me of any
negligence. I would have hated to disappoint them,
so I conscientiously fulfilled my duties. I could not
expect my employers to share my convictions, but
often we had interesting political discussions, especially
during the peace negotiations between Germany and
Russia at Brest-Litovsk. Naturally they were con¬
vinced capitalists, but open-minded and critical.

Tord Sender

When I received my first summons to court, I was
prepared to go to jail. However, what they asked of
me was testimony against friends, opponents of the
war in other cities. After the second experience of
the kind, however, there was no doubt in my mind
that the object was to make me incriminate myself.
I was not quite so naive as they would have liked me
to be. Though I had to testify without a lawyer’s
assistance and the summons never told me in advance
what case I was to give testimony on, I avoided
incriminating either friends or myself. . Sometimes I
managed by feigning a rather poor memory. Natur¬
ally I was never told what the other witnesses or the
defendant himself had already admitted and what,
therefore, could not be denied. In some cases I
succeeded in informing the defendants of my testi¬
mony by having them brought from jail to a doctor
or dentist and met there by a common friend. One
finally acquires a routine also in clandestine work,
especially when one’s conscience is clear in the con¬
viction that all one is doing is destined to serve the
best interests of the people. When democracy is
non-existent and the authorities rule by a state of
siege, clandestine methods are forced upon those who
refuse to cease thinking.

The German ruling classes’ war aims meantime
had become clearer than ever. They included the
desire to annex the valleys of Briey and Longwy in
France, to keep the major part of Belgium, to make
the Baltic states German vassals, and to annex part
of Russo-Polish territory.

I was in contact with Hugo Haase, Eduard Bern¬
stein, the father of Socialist revisionism but a vigorous

72

Fighting for Peace in Wartime Germany

opponent of the war, and Karl Kantsky, the great
Marxian scientist, and I kept them informed of the
feehng of the anti-war groups in south-western Ger¬
many. Kautsky, by the end of I9i5> had declared
in the magazine JYeue ^eit that the minority within
the Socialist parliamentary group could no longer be
mute but had to vote openly against the next motion
for war credits. The result was that on March 24,
1916, twenty Socialist members of the Reichstag voted
against the credits. Haase, as the speaker of this
minority, justified this attitude. We ail agreed with
this step, although it broke the unity of the Social
Democratic group in the Reichstag. Was not the
parliamentary platform the only place in the country
where something like free speech was possible ? But
intolerance ruled the hour. The twenty members
were expelled from the Socialist parliamentary group,
and they formed a separate bloc.

The intolerance of the Majority Sociahsts was
reflected also in the party meetings in Frankfurt and
elsewhere. We were deprived, by the action of the
majority group, of any opportunity for free discussion.

The majority had decided to have their leader,
Philipp Scheidemann, come to Frankfurt to defend
their viewpoint. Thereupon we had invited the
Reichstag deputy Ewald Vogtherr, one of the twenty
anti-war men. When the meeting opened, we pro¬
posed to grant Vogtherr the same time as Scheide¬
mann. The motion was put to the meeting and the
vote convinced us that we had a majority. But the
chairman refused to count the votes and declared
the majority in favour of hearing only Scheidemann.
At that time the bulk of the opposition to the war

73

Toni Sender

was formed by women, trained in my women’s group.
They were furious at the ruling of the chair and pro¬
tested vigorously against this dictatorial procedure.
The meeting showed signs of disorder. Then occurred
what I, nmvely, had never thought possible. A score
of men resorted to physical violence to put all the
protesting women outside the door ! When they
came to me I challenged them : “ Do you dare to
put your hands on me ? ” They did not touch me,
but of course I would not remain in a group that
had trampled upon all democratic rights.

However, I kept a cool head. I called our mem¬
bers together and told them : “ This experience has
proved that the supporters of the war credits are
afraid that we, the opponents, could become the
majority in the party—^therefore their provocation to
make us leave the organization. Yet we want the
unity of the labour movement. Don’t let us be fooled.
We are confident that our convictions are right and
in the end must be victorious.”

It required a high amount of self-control to follow
that route. It was more and more evident that the
Majority Socialists wanted to split the party. In the
party papers on which the executive had any influ¬
ence, anti-war editors were dismissed. And when in
January, 1917, the Socialist opponents of the war
called a conference in Berlin, the delegates and then-
supporters in the country were expelled from the party
without any opportunity of defence. I still consider
it an honour to have belonged to those who were
informed by the executive that they should consider
themselves outside the party.

Now that all our sacrifices for the unity of the

74

Fighting for Peace in Wartime Germany

labour movement-had been in vain, I urged Haase,
Kautsky, and Bernstein to act immediately. It was
plainly our duty to voice the will for peace of the
starving millions. I knew their situation, for I myself
had known hunger. Of course, I had a good income
and could have afforded to pay any price for “ boot¬
leg’’ foodstuff. But I would not buy any of it. I
would have felt ashamed to go to the meetings of the
hungry workers and, well-fed, sit among them and
discuss their problems and their sufferings.

Many workers declared their solidarity with their
expelled leaders. A new political organization had to
be created. The leaders in Berlin had inevitably to
recognize this. They finally did. At Easter, 1917, a
convention was called in the venerable medieval city
of Gotha in Thtiringen, for which old Wilhelm Bock,
a highly respected leader of the Leather Workers
Union, was a member of the Reichstag. Wilhelm had
known at first hand Bismarck’s law against socialism
and was a tested fighter. Once when we had him as
a speaker he told of his activity under Bismarck’s law
and of the way he had many times fooled the police.
He gave some useful hints for our anti-war work.

Bock had succeeded in organizing the convention
which, in spite of the state of siege, was to become
the founding congress of the Independent Social
Democratic party of Germany (Unabhangige Sozial-
demokratische Partei Deutschlands). The best minds
of the German labour movement were with us.
Besides Haase, Kautsky, Bernstein, and Bock, there
was Kurt Eisner, the poet, the kindest and at the same
time the most courageous of men, who went to jail
for his anti-war conviction. Clara Zetkin, of course,

75

Toni Sender

belonged to us and also Georg Ledebour, a Berlin
member of the Reichstag and a fine example of the
old type of labour fighter. With a sharp face and a
slender body, Ledebour had a lame leg, which, how¬
ever, did not prevent him from climbing mountains.
So fond was he of hiking that, whenever he came to
Frankfurt during a week-end for a lecture, he would
ask me to come with him to the Taunus Mountains.
Not infirequently in the midst of our excursion he
would start a dispute over some political questions
on which we could not agree. He was pugnacious
and stubborn. It certainly was not always easy for
Haase, our leader, to get along with Georg in the
national executive. But we all liked old Georg for
his fine qualities as a fighter and comrade. He was
one of the few persons who expressed themselves
strongly in favour of a republic from the platform of
the Reichstag.

The Gotha convention was not without contro¬
versial incidents. The delegates of the Spartakus
group, which was later to form the Communist party,
joined our newly formed Independent Social Demo¬
cratic party with mental reservations. We all felt
somewhat uncomfortable about it. But this was the
only evidence of disharmony. Otherwise it was a
gathering with a fine spirit of companionship and
solidarity.

Of course we expected at every moment that the
authorities would dissolve our gathering, but we were
happy to have found a political home again. In the
midst of our solemn deliberations there were some
humorous moments. One night, when I had returned
to my hotel, I suddenly heard men’s voices singing

76

Fighting for Peace in Wartime Germany

operatic arias under my window. It was a group of
old comrades, led by Alfred Henke, member of the
Reichstag from Bremen, serenading me from the old
Gotha market-place. The moon smiled at the odd
group of old fellows. It was a rare sight in those
days of manslaughter, starvation, and sorrow.

Conditions of life became even harder after the
convention. The worst winter, that of 1917, when
almost all food consisted in whole or in part of turnips,
was before us. Bread made of flour mixed with
turnips, turnips at luncheon and dinner, marmalade
made of turnips—the air was filled with the smell of
turnips and it almost made you vomit ! We hated
turnips and had to eat them. They were the only
foodstuff obtainable in abundance.

I soon realized that a great change in the mentality
of the people was taking place. They had lost their
confidence in Ludendorff and Hindenburg, in the
whole General Staff. At the beginning of the war
rny colleagues in the metal firm kept aloof from me,
since it was known that I was against the war, but
with each passing year a greater number became
friendly. Finally many of them came to me to discuss
the political situation. They had begun to feel that
things were going wrong in the German ruling circles.

If some democratic freedom had existed during
these months, our newly formed party certainly would
have attracted a huge following. That was what made
the authorities prohibit any public activity on our
part. However, a way out was found. I was charged
to follow the lecture tours of speakers of other parties,
who, supporting the war, were free to address public
meetings. My task was to ask for the floor in the

77

Toni Sender

discussion period. The knack consisted first in getting
the floor by making the audience curious and then
in speaking in terms that made it difficult for the
army officerj always present, to stop and arrest me.
Old Georg Ulrich, knowm as the “ Red Duke from
Hessen'' because he had become a member of the
Reichstag for the Grand Duchy of Hessen, was one
of the most popular figures in his state. He was the
speaker I had to follow most of the time. He became
nervous when I appeared. My speaking time was
curtailed. They would not give me more than ten
minutes. But towards the last year of the war I could
feel the increasing curiosity of the audiences, and at
the end of my ten minutes I could ask the audience
myself if they wanted to hear more. I had some more
interesting news for them, I would say.

Let her speak longer/’ was the demand of the
audience.

The officers took down every word in shorthand,
and I was prepared for arrest at any moment, although
I tried to word my talks in such a way that they would
not be incriminating. All my friends were amazed
that I was still free. Only later was I to have an
explanation of this amazing fact.

One day I had to go to Russelsheim, to speak dur¬
ing the discussion period at a meeting of the women
workers of the Opel automobile factory, then produc¬
ing only munitions. After I had delivered my talk, the
entire audience remained when the meeting was over
and asked me to open a new meeting. I complied,
although of course I had no permit firom the army
high command. One of our most active nuclei was
started in this industrial town.

78

Fighting for Feme in Wartime Germany

End the war This was our main demand.
But It was negative demand, and it was not suffi¬
cient to satisfy those of us wffio looked into the future.
To fight those forces that make for war, those who
pressed for the imperiahst policies of Pan-Germanism
—that was our^ purpose. Those forces, which had
their foothold in heavy industry and among the
barons of the big, vast Prussian estates, were the same
that prevented Germany from becoming a firee demo¬
cratic country where the people had not only the right
to die for their fatherland ” but to make it a nation
with a government of the people, by the people, and
for the people.

When Haase came to Frankfurt to address a secret
meeting, we conferred on this problem through an
entire night. ^ Here for^the first time I had an oppor¬
tunity to realize that this excellent lawyer and political
leader also had a great constructive mind. Neither
of us doubted that the necessary great change in
Germany could not happen without a revolution. It
was a major necessity that such a revolution should
not find us unprepared.

“ We cannot expect to take power away from the
war-makers for any length of time without touching
the economic foundation of their political power,’’ I
told Haase. ^

We are aware of that,” he retorted. I have
contacts with many leading persons in economic life ”
—and he gave a number of names which I cannot
now repeat without denouncing them to Nazi ven¬
geance. They are ready to collaborate in the event
of such a fundamental change. In contrast with
Russia, we in Germany cannot afford any interrup-

79

Toni Sender

tion, any stoppage, of the economic machinery, for
this would risk having our people starve and finally
revolt against the revolution itself. We need the
utmost possible continuity of the industrial process.
With the majority of the people behind us ready to
build a new, free world, without political and eco¬
nomic slavery, we may succeed in making Germany
a real homeland of the working people. We must
rebuild the state from top to bottom. Meantime,
we have to prepare for the moment. We must be
ready when the great changes become possible.’’

8o

IV

THE EVE OF REVOLT

The German people’s capacity for suffering must cer¬
tainly be above the average. They proved it during
the war years of starvation and sacrifice. But this,
too, reached its limit. Through my intimate contacts
with the women of the working classes I knew what
an impossible task was placed on their shoulders.
Bread tickets were always insufficient for the man y
hungry mouths. Tickets were issued for meat you
often could not get or had not the money to buy.
Butter and fat tickets did not mean you could obtain
the quantity indicated on them. More often t h a n
not the word “ butter ” on the ticket was all one saw
of butter. I usually gave some of my bread tickets
to families with many children. Faces grew paler,
influenza took many victims. How could weak bodies
resist ?

Many of my women fnends worked in the muni¬
tions factories while their husbands were in the
trenches. Their wages were needed to keep their
households going. On Sundays they went with their
knapsacks into the country in the hope of obtaining
some food from the farmers. On their way home
they had to take care to avoid the police, who would
have taken the food from them. Bootlegging of food-

81

Toni Sender

stuff was, of course, prohibited. These mothers, who
had to carry a heavy economic burden in addition to
their daUy fears for soldier husbands, were my most
courageous aides in the fight for peace and for a
better society. Not only did they feel most keenly
the social injustices—^it was not unknown to them that
butter, meat, and other foods were being brought into
the houses of the wealthy, who could afford to pay
any price for them—but they reahzed that the army
high command had withheld the truth about the
mihtary situation and the progress of the war.

The war was lost—and still the fighting went on.
Tens of thousands more were being killed. What
for? Had not the Russians shown an example to
be followed ?

Robert Dissmann, released from the army, or rather
the hospital, as “incurable”, had resumed his in¬
tense activity. It was due to his zeal that the majority
of the men left in the factories, especially in the metal
industry, were behind us. In every important plant
we had our trusted contacts—in one day we could
reach them ail.

The last remnant of confidence in the rulers of the
nation collapsed when, in September, 1918, after the
failure of the army offensive, the defection of Bulgaria
threatened Germany with the probable loss of Ru¬
mania. How could the war go on without Rumanian
oil and foodstuffs ? The tide of military fortime had
txxmed against Germany, and this could no longer be
concealed from the people.

Now, when aU was lost, those responsible took
measures which might have had some value four years
earlier. The government was reconstituted on a

82

The Eve of Revolt

broader_ basis. Instead of the Kaiser’s nominating
the ministers, the parties sent their delegates into the
cabinet, which was headed by the liberal Prince Max
von Baden. It was fear which forced Ludendorff
and the General Staff to grant more rights to the
people.^ Until the military defeat, our people had
been given no chance to look behind the veil of the
victory reports or to discuss public affairs in any
critical way. Nobody knew it better than we. Only
one public meeting had been permitted us—and that
was after the coUapse at the front and the threatened
separation of Austria from Germany.

Impelled by General Ludendorff, the new govern¬
ment of Prince Max von Baden had to ask the Allies
for an armistice. He addressed his request to Presi¬
dent Wilson. The President doubted if the constitu¬
tional changes were reaUy fundamental, since the
Kaiser was still at the head of the nation and the
geneials continued in influential positions. Distrust
of Germany had not yet vanished.

The national executive of the Independent Socialist
Party in October, rgiS, published an appeal saying :

Profound transformations are taking place in many
nations the world will have a completely new face.
It is the historic task of international labour to play
a leading part in this process of transformation. A
spirit of sacrifice and unity is absolutely necessary.”

And very soon this spirit of sacrifice was shown by
men who certainly had not received the maximum of
political training but in whom rebellion had been
awakened. When, on October 30, the Ge rman high
seas ^fleet received orders to sail for the purpose .of
making a great raid, ostensibly on England, the

Tom bender

crews of the Helgoland and the Thuringen refused to
obey.

The war is lost, over. Why this useless sacrifice ?
To satisfy the pride of our officers, from whom we
have suffered enough during these four years ?
Never ! ” That was the sailors’ reaction.

Immediately four hundred men of the Thuringen and
two hundred of the Helgoland were arrested. It was
too late, however, to intimidate the rest. Unafraid
of threatened punishment, possibly death sentences,
the sailors took things into their own hands, and by
November 7 they had elected Sailors’ Councils. The
workers in the shipyards joined them, electing Workers’
Councils. The sailors’ demands were elementary and
naive, but the first was for peace and an end of the
destructive influence of the Pan-Germans, the jingoes.
These sailors, a majority of them from the working
classes, had dared as early as 1917 to protest against
treatment accorded by their officers, and two of them
had paid for that with their lives. Since then they had
formed secret associations and maintained some con¬
tact with Reichstag members of the Independent
Socialist Party, Hugo Haase and Wilhelm Dittmann
in particular.

Luise Zietz, a member of our national executive,
also enjoyed their confidence. Those who have known
Luise can understand that quite well. I had met her
first during the war when I was a member of our
party’s advisory board, Luise came from a very poor
family and even as a little girl was forced to work
hard for a most meagre living. It was amazing what
an iron energy this woman had developed from a
childhood of such drudgery. She became a trade

84-

'The Eve of Revolt

union leader and^ although she had received very little
education, acquired a great amount of knowledge that
enabled her to become the women's representative in
the old Socialist party's executive and later one of
the most industrious members of the Reichstag. She
was the hardest-working person on the executive, re¬
fusing to recognize distinctions between women's tasks
and general political duties. Her effectiveness as a
popular speaker lay in her ability to understand the
iheaning of poverty, of which she had had such a full
measure. At any hour of the day or night she was
ready to help. The sailors who had revolted in 1917
against brutal treatment and bad food needed guid¬
ance. They had gone to Luise. What then seemed
to be a lost cause became a year later, in November,
1918, the signal for the German revolution.

The flames started in the harbour city of Kiel. In
the early November days revolutionaries, with the
support of the workers, had taken possession of the
city. Labour leaders had arrived. Would it be only
a local uprising without national consequences ? Not
if the sailors' will was done ! They understood that
the fulfilment of their demands could be guaranteed
only after a fundamental change in the entire nation.
All those among the German people who understood
the necessity for establishing a free and just social
order sympathized with them. We felt the revolt
coming nearer and wanted to lead it in such a direc¬
tion that the German people would show the world
that something new had really been begun. The
world should be brought to trust us.

Robert Dissmann had gone to Berlin to discuss the
situation with party leaders. On his return, early in

85 G

Toni Sender

the morning of Friday, November 8, I went to meet
him at the station. We agreed there that the moment
to act had come. We decided to call aU our shop
stewards together on the evening of the same day at
the Schlesinger Eck, the meeting-place where we had
finally achieved some feeling of security from denun¬
ciation by spies and police raids. The Schlesinger
Eck was an old inn at the corner of Grand Gallus
Street in the centre of the city. It had gone down
in the hands of an innkeeper who seemed to be his
own best customer. A dark staircase led to the upper
floor, where we had our offices and meeting-room.
It was not very clean and orderly, and we were not
surprised if a mouse ran across our feet. But the
innkeeper was a good-natured person, and so was his
wife. They realized that they took chances in giving
us asylum. Perhaps they sympathized with our work.
After a long period of wandering from haU to hall,
constantly ordered to move because of our anti-war
attitude, we felt grateful for this shelter, although it
was bare of any comfort. For the old Schlesinger Eck
I retain a warm feehng of gratitude. There we were
to have our memorable meeting during the night of
this historic Friday.

Robert went to his office to. have the invitations
for the shop stewards printed and circulated the same
morning ; I to my desk at the firm. It was impossible
to concentrate on figures and business letters, on cal¬
culations and balance sheets. Great events were in
the wind. I went to my employer.

“ Please permit me to leave the office to-day.”

“What is the reason?”

“ I can’t stay in the building. I must go into the

86

The Eve of Revolt

city, try to meet soldiers and speak to the people in
the street. Something must happen soon, and I feel
it my duty not to keep aloof.”

Although far from being revolutionary, my em¬
ployers showed in those days a broad understanding.
They, too, were probably prepared for stormy events
and major changes. They let me go.

Nervousness seemed to be in the air. Or was it
merely my own nervousness transferred to the world
surrounding me ? No, it could not be, for people to
whom I talked in the streets were too responsive.
Fifty-two months of exasperation finally had let loose
a storm. They were furious above all at the realiza¬
tion that for more than four years they had not been
told the truth, had been deceived about the situation
on the battlefields and deliberately misled about
events in the outside world. I had reached the main
station when I saw a crowd. Sailors ! They had
come from Kdel. Their blue blouses seemed a symbol.
I rushed to meet them. They told me what had
happened in Kiel, in the navy.

“ Delegations of ssdlors have been sent to all parts
of the country to bring the message and to ask you to
support us,” they said.

I answered : “ We are only too glad to do it. You
can rely on us. My party, with all its heart, is with
you.”

“ But can you tell me how the capital, how Berlin,
stands ? What about the government of Prince Max
of Baden?” I asked.

“ We don’t know. Nothing seems to have happened
there yet. However, they must and will come with
us.”

87

Toni Sender

On I went to the railway station, which was
guarded by a special army detachment. Their com¬
mander had ordered a search of all trains from North
Germany for possible insurgents. I tried to talk with
the soldiers. One non-commissioned officer was the
most responsive. His name was Stitz. Although he
was still very young, he was thoughtful and courageous.

We must end the searching of the trains for
revolutionary soldiers,’’ I told him. ‘‘ Will you try
to bring the soldiers at the station in line with the
sailors and the revolution ? ”

Stitz agreed. That night two large red flags waved
over the entrance of the Frankfurt central station.

Meanwhile, news reached us that Munich had pro¬
claimed a republic. The Bavarian king had abdicated,
and our Kurt Eisner, the poet and journalist, was the
head of the new government. Peasants had joined
with the Bavarian workers. That was encouraging
news. We must hasten to join them.

Army officers mixed with the people. They had
rarely done so before then. But their suddenly pro¬
fessed feeling for democracy came too late. The
soldiers began to tear off their officers’ shoulder straps.
They would no longer recognize their former rela¬
tionship, which consisted, on their part, of blind
obedience. However, it was probably not so much
this rigid discipline that the soldiers most deeply
resented as the fact that the army officers considered
themselves a superior caste with special social and
economic privileges. Not only had they ruled during
the war, but, together with the Junkers of the big
estates of Prussia and the masters of heavy industry,
the military caste had worked hand in glove with the

88

The Eve of Revolt

court and ruled the nation. They were, therefore,
considered directly responsible for the war, for the
defeat and suffering. Considering the intensity of
the people’s misery, the mild treatment accorded the
army officers was surprising. Only their shoulder
straps were removed. No personal or physical harm
was done any of them. In those midday hours of
Friday we did not yet know what would happen in
the barracks of the infantry. There was ferment
among the soldiers, I learned, but about the attitude
of the officers’ corps nothing was known.

I met friends and they informed me that all the
parties of Frankfurt had formed a Welfare Com¬
mittee ” and would address an appeal to the population
to keep calm and create no disorder. What was the
meaning of this Welfare Committee ? It could only
be an attempt to prevent the revolutionaiy wave from
reaching this part of the country. I saw Robert,
and we agreed to issue a warning against this
manoeuvre.

Again I went into the streets, now more crowded.
We decided to go to the barracks to establish contact
with the soldiers. Heinrich Huttmann, a member of
the Reichstag, an Independent Socialist, joined us.
We were well received. Huttmann spoke - first. T
followed. I told them of the events in the navy, the
sailors’ message, and our determination to have south¬
western Germany follow their lead—if necessary,
smashing all resistance. Enthusiastic applause ! The
soldiers support the revolution ! They would set up
soldiers’ councils. Before we could leave, I was
approached and told that some soldiers had been
arrested for insubordination. Would it not be an

89

Toni Sender

appropriate first act of the republic to have them
released ? At once I asked for the keys of the military
jail. They were given to me. The released soldiers,
full of gratitude for their unexpected freedom, em¬
braced me.

However, it was time to rush to the Schlesinger
Eck. Our friends from the factories must have
arrived long ago. It was difiicult to walk in the
streets, they were so clogged with masses of people.
No news yet from Berlin, but at least in Frankfurt the
people were backing the revolution.

A thick cloud of smpke covered the gathering in
the Schlesinger Eck. I heard Robert’s voice calling
the names of all important factories and asking for
the names of their delegates. Virtually all were
represented, especially the munitions factories. Never
had this place been so crowded. Robert gave an
account of the latest events in the nation. He argued
that the sailors’ rebellion would not be localized :
the movement would spread, and it was our task to
give it direction. Robert had the unlimited con¬
fidence of the workers. They knew him as a man
who would be audacious when the moment came but
who would always act in the interests of the masses.
He would not fiivolously risk adventures but neither
would he fear to take a chance. He never undertook
anything without planning his strategy. His second
step was considered before he undertook the first.
He was loved by the factory workers, who were
cheered by his singing Rhenish dialect.

I followed Robert on the platform, giving a report
of my experiences of the day and sketching what I
thought must be the next steps.

90

The Eve of Revolt

“ If Berlin is not yet ready, the provinces must act
for themselves and push in the direction of the revolu¬
tion,” I said. “ We cannot wait for Berlin. Waiting
longer can bring great danger. The estabhshment of
this suspicious ‘ Welfare Committee ’ in Frankfurt is a
distinct warning. If we do not act rapidly, the reaction
will seize the opportunity to regain influence. We must
create an unalterable situation and do our job well.
Other provinces will follow. Frankfurt must lead for
south-western Germany. That makes our quick deci¬
sion the more necessary. Is there a guarantee of
success ? No revolution has had a one hundred per
cent, guarantee of success, but our chances are excellent
at the moment. Not only are the masses ready, but
the ruling classes feel their own weakness.”

And here I related some of my experiences of the
last days with employers and their realization that
great changes might be inevitable.

“ If we act swiftly and thoroughly, great things may
be accomplished without violence. Let us use the
opportunity given us for the first time.”

Robert and I had agreed to recommend the declara¬
tion of a general strike for the next morning. But
first our friends must go back to their shops and
organize elections of W^orkers’ Councils which would
become the ruling instruments of the republic. It
was Robert’s task to work out the details of the elec¬
tion. The duration of the strike could not yet be set;
it depended upon events in the nation and further
developments in our district. Of course, the striking
workers could not expect to receive strike relief. It
was to be a political strike, which is not financed but
arises out of a readiness to sacrifice for the common

91

Toni Sender

good. All understood that^ and all were ready. They
had starved and suffered for a goal that they felt was
not theirs. Now they would do dt readily for the
people’s cause.

At this point one of our friends in the army arrived
to tell us that simultaneously with our meeting of the
shop stewards^ a gathering of soldiers’ councils was
taking place in the elegant hotels the Frankfurter Hof.
Great confusion governed their deliberations. Un¬
known men had taken the leadership, and there was
immediate need for intervention by a person of
political experience ; otherwise all we decided here
would be defeated by the inexperience of the soldiers.
Robert was ready to go, and it took him the greater
part of the night to handle this most difficult job.

In the first hours of the revolution we encountered
what was to prove to be its main handicap, the
Soldiers’ Councils. The soldiers, to a large extent,
were completely untrained politically. What they
demanded was the end of the war with as little disturb¬
ance as possible. They wanted to be able to go
home and to work. They were not concerned with
the need to uproot those forces which had led the
people into war. They neither knew nor understood
enough of social and economic currents. But for the
moment they had the arms and they had a voice in
establishing the new Germany. The programme of
the Soldiers’ Councils in contrast with that of the
workers, was not revolutionary. They were weary of
the war and, of course, were ready to support the
young republic. But what kind of republic it would
be did not concern them too much. They could not
understand why the political parties should worry

92

The Eve of Revolt

about a programme of action. Practice would reveal
the tasks to be done. That you can lose your cause
when you do not see clearly ahead, plan and firmly
execute your programme, did not occur to them.

While Robert was struggling at the Frankfurter
Hof, I had taken the chair in the shop stewards’
meeting. We could not suspend the course of the
revolution while the soldiers talked. Details of the
general strike had to be arranged, I did it on the
basis of information that the more experienced men
furnished.

There were several obstacles we had to be prepared
to meet. Our experiences with the Frankfurt police
force in the past had not been favourable. The
police commissioner, Riess von Scheurnschloss, was a
man of the old aristocracy, entirely devoted to the old
regime. He could not be left in power without
endangering the safety of the new democratic institu¬
tions. We had had no word from him during all
these turbulent hours. Quick decision was necessary.
I asked the men to authorize me to have the police
commissioner arrested. It was then nearly three
o’clock in the morning. I chose four men to go to
the main police station and, if necessary, to the com¬
missioner’s home. But I did not expect the chief of
Frankfurt’s police to be at home on the night when
his regime was threatened with demolition.

“What shall we do with the man once we have
him arrested ? ” asked one of the men who had been
assigned the task.

“ Take him to the Frankfurter Hof and give him
into the custody of the Soldiers’ Council,” I ordered.
“ The Soldiers’ Councils will have the task of maintain-

93

Toni Sender

ing public order, while we, the Workers’ Councils, will
be in charge of all civil affairs.”

The assembly agreed, and the four men left while
we went on with our business.

An hour later they returned and gave us their
report. The police commissioner had not been found
at the main police station. He had been at home,
asleep ! Crowds were pushing through the streets ;
barracks were taken over, prisoners released, red flags
flown from the central station ; soldiers and workers
were deliberating and making decisions of great con¬
sequence—and during all that time the old Prussian
police chief had slept soundly, perhaps even undis¬
turbed by dreams. Could there be a better illustration
of how aloof this caste was from the life of the people ?
The leader of the delegation, R., had forced the com¬
missioner to leave his bed and to dress. R. asked him
whether he was ready to recognize the new authorities.
The commissioner, in complete ignorance of the extent
to which the revolutionary movement had grown
during his slumber, would not commit himself.
Thereupon he was arrested and, according to instruc¬
tions, placed in custody at the Frankfurter Hof. He
was never reinstated. We in. our province did things
thoroughly. His first successor, appointed the night
of his arrest, was Dr. Hugo Sinzheimer, a lawyer and
professor of social science at the University of Frank¬
furt, who was later succeeded by men from the labour
movement.

But let us go back to the Schlesinger Eck. The
next important personality to be reckoned with was
the mayor of the city, Herr Voigt. He was given the
alternative of recognizing the new regime or resigning.

94

The Eve of Revolt

He came to the council'.to declare that he was r
to place himself entirely at the disposal of the Wor
and Soldiers’ Council. Although not a revolutioi
he kept his promise.

Meanwhile, Robert had returned, and I asked
to take the chair again. He reported on his attempt
to bring the two councils together. He had finally
succeeded in making arrangements for collaboration
Time was pressing, and much work was still aheac
of us. None of us was tired—we were living sucl
tense and happy hours. We were a community bounc
together by reciprocal confidence. I, therefore, wa
not surprised that nobody questioned my leadership
although I was only in my twenties and there wer«
many greybeards in the hall.

Robert thought that it was time to prepare j
proclamation to the population, informing it of wha
had occurred during the night and inviting it to job
the movement and support the newly born republic
The assembly assigned the task of composing thi
proclamation to Dr. Georg Plotke and me. W
immediately went to work. Dr. Plotke was a youni
dramatist of the municipal theatres, a gifted write
who in spite of his official position had been courageou
enough to join our movement during the war. 1
real idealist, he put himself at the disposal of the labou
movement in a most unselfish way. Alas, he wa
soon to become a victim of this unselfishness. A fe\
weeks later elections approached, and he was askec
to campaign in the Taunus Mountains. Georg
although aflfected by a serious attack of influenza, left hi
bed to do his duty. A few days later we had to bur
tHs dear friend, this very promising young talent.

95

Toni Sender

That night of revolution we sat and together tried
to elaborate the text of our appeal. But Georg,
although a man of letters, had had no experience in
polidcal life and had not yet had the opportunity to
know the masses. Finally he asked me to write the
proclamation and to submit it to him ; together we
would then present it to the shop stewards. I was in
a mood of exaltation. Was it not the great moment
of the German people’s life, the moment for which
we had lived and for which we had prepared during
four dismal years? Could not some of our keenest
dreams now become reality? Of course nothing
seemed to have happened yet in the capital, but
Berlin could not fail us; revolution would soon come
there too.

I wrote. I announced the success of the revolution,
the establishment of a socialist republic. I advised the
population that Workers’ and Soldiers’ Councils had
been formed and now represented the supreme author¬
ity. The young republic would make the utmost
effort to conclude a speedy and decent peace treaty.
The proclamation closed with an appeal to the people
to help establish a system of social justice.

Georg was enthusiastic. We brought the text to
the gathering. They, too, fully approved. And now
came the second part of our job. It was essential
that all the newspapers that morning carry our
proclamation. Thereupon the shop stewards assigned
to Dr. Plotke and me the task of censors for the entire
press. Together we. went out. Seeing two sailors in
a military car we stopped them, informed them of
our mission and asked them to take us to all the
newspaper offices in town, and this they did. At

96

The Eve of Revolt

each newspaper office we demanded to see the chief
editor and asked him to show us the galley proofs of
the next day’s paper. It did not occur to me that
we might meet any serious resistance, although such
a thought certainly would not have made us give up.
But all the editors were co-operative. Reading the
proofs, I found that they all planned to carry the
appeal of the infamous “ Welfare Committee,” which
was then on its way to political oblivion. We ordered
the appeal out of the papers. It would only have
created confusion. A few hours later the Frankfurter
Zeitung, and finally the other morning papers, appeared
with big white spaces where the Welfare Committee’s
statement would have been. The Workers’ Council’s
manifesto was published in full. During the night
Hermann Wendel, a member of the Reichstag and a
gifted writer, was made head of the semi-official news
agency, the Wolff Telegraph Bureau, and was ordered
to bar firom it any counter-revolutionary manoeuvres.

In co-operation with the Soldiers’ Council we had
immediately to take over the most difficult and most
responsible job in a blockaded land—^provision of
sufficient food to feed the people. We were fortunate
in having an excellent organizer ready to help us.
The head of the military hospitals placed at our dis¬
posal his first aide, an extremely able man, who was
to assist us in organizing the food supply for the civil
population and the garrison.

It was dawn before aU was done. No one had any
thought of sleep. There would not be much oppor¬
tunity to sleep anyway during the conoing days. A
cold shower and high nervous tension kept me wide
awake. Would this be the great turning-point?

97 -

Toni Sender

Would we give the German people for the first time
in their history the right to complete self-government ?
If we succeeded in this and could also abolish the old
system of privileged castes and classes and make the
Germans a really free and independent nation, then,
I thought, a new era would begin, a new era not only
for Germany, but for the peoples of all Europe. It
was the hour of hope—and action.

98

V

DAYS OF REVOLUTION

The morning is cool and unfriendly. A fine rain is
pouring on us as we come into the street.

What are the people thinking ? Will the revolution
be victorious ? Slowlyj men, women, and children
appear in the streets. Soon the thoroughfares are
crowded. A holiday mood dominates the city. Has
the young republic only fervent adherents among the
population ? Nearly everybody is wearing a small
red ribbon ! I suddenly realize that I myself have
no red ribbon and no badge. Everyone seems to be
cheerful, undisturbed by the rain. Have they all
become revolutionaries ? For some of them, at least,
it seems to me to be too sudden a conversion to be
true. This unexpected, universal republican fervour
makes me feel highly suspicious. Were some of them
not men who had hailed the Kaiser, bowed to the
aristocracy, railed against France, denounced the
Allies? Too sudden was the change—one night of
bold measures had been enough. Firm convictions
are not acquired so rapidly.

A professed sympathy for the new German demo¬
cracy was characteristic of the former ruling classes
during the short first period of the republic. They
did not oppose the republic. On the contrary, they

99

DAYS OF REVOLUTION

The morning is cool and unfriendly. A fine rain is
pouring on us as we come into the street.

What are the people thinking ? Will the revolution
be victorious ? Slowly, men, women, and children
appear in the streets. Soon the thoroughfares are
crowded. A holiday mood dominates the city. Has
the young republic only fervent adherents among the
population? Nearly everybody is wearing a small
red ribbon ! I suddenly realize that I myself have
no red ribbon and no badge. Everyone seems to be
cheerful, undisturbed by the rain. Have they all
become revolutionaries ? For some of them, at least,
it seems to me to be too sudden a conversion to be
true. This unexpected, universal republican fervour
makes me feel highly suspicious. Were some of them
not men who had hailed the Kaiser, bowed to the
aristocracy, railed against France, denounced the
Allies? Too sudden was the change—one night of
bold measures had been enough. Firm convictions
are not acquired so rapidly.

A professed sympathy for the new German demo¬
cracy was characteristic of the former ruling classes
during the short first period of the republic. They
did not oppose the republic, On the contrary, they

99

Toni Sender

seemed extremely glad that the working class had the
courage to undertake Uquidation of the bankrupt old

regime. -r i i • j-

What a task was before us ! I had an immediate

presentiment of obstacles arising in all directions,
although for the moment everything seemed to go
smoothly. But of the many difficulties that were soon
to appear on the horizon, especially difficulties created
by foreign countries and by our own military and civil
authorities, nobody could know on this promising
morning of November 95

Our shop stewards had gone to their factories to

arrange for the election of Workers Councils. Imme¬
diately we were concerned with another problem.
How many would come to the Osthafen, the grounds
at the outskirts of the city, where we had called them
for a “ rally of the masses ” ? _ Our doubts were soon
removed. When, together with Robert Dissmann, I
reached the grounds, hundreds already awaited us.
Soon great masses followed. Thousands first, then
tens of thousands. Before long the vast area was black
with men and women. Huttmann, Robert, and I
were the speakers. We had no amplifiers. A few
trucks had been parked here and there, and I had to
climb from one to another, to speak again and again to
reach all those who wished to hear. Enthusiasm ran
high. An extraordinary inspiration united all of us.
What tremendous possibilities the situation seemed
to offer, if only we were equal to decisive deeds,
especiaUy in this first period of the revolution. ^
Ten years later I met an old friend of mine who
had attended this mass rally. He told me how deeply
he had been struck by the serious note of the speeches

100

Days of Revolution

in that moment of triumph. In that first hour, we
had warned the workers not to be too confident.
The most important work had still to be accomplished.
The revolution would be victorious only if it succeeded
in building up completely new administrations in the
army, in government, and in the judiciary. It would
not be enough that a high official or a judge placed a
little red ribbon in his buttonhole. He must be a
genuine friend of the new order. The forces which
had striven for annexations and continuation of the
war were still there, though for the moment not audible.
They were supported by the wealthy agrarians in
East Prussia and by the barons of coal, iron, and steel
in western Germany. They must be dethroned in
order that democracy might be safe. That must be
among the first deeds of the revolutionary central
government which was to be formed. Our task, the
mission of the masses who understood the meaning of
these historic events, was to back the new govern¬
ment and to protect it with our lives as soon as
it met with the active resistance of the forces of the
past.

Often, since Germany has turned to acts of barbaric
cruelty, I have been asked by people who seemed to
be very revolutionary (although they had never gone
through the experience of a revolution theinselves),
“ Why did not the Germans in November, 1918, when
the revolutionaries still had the power, execute the
counter-revolutionaries ? ” Whom should the revolu¬
tion have executed ? No opponent then appeared^—
no Hitler, no Goebbels, and no Goring. It is even
reported that Hitler in those days joined the Majority
Sociahsts. There may be moments in history when

lOI H

Toni Sender

energetic, rapid action is necessary, even to decreeing
the extreme penalty. But that is not essential to a
revolution. The fundamental transformation of the
economic and political system, the creative task, is far
more important, and it alone can give us the right to
speak of a genuine revolution.

In those exciting November days nobody dared to
commit himself to the regime of the past. A scene I
never shall forget was the visit of a general of the high
command of the eighteenth army corps to the more
than humble headquarters of the Workers’ Council.
He arrived solemnly, dressed in civilian clothes, to
place himself at the disposal of the Workers’ and
Soldiers’ Council. He expressed an understanding of
the things that had happened these last days and,
apparently in a spirit of genuine patriotism, wanted
to support the masses in the interest of the weU-being
of the nation. Only those who have known the proud
caste of German generals can realize what an amount
of self-denial this man needed for his step. Was he
sincere ? He seemed to be ; but the councils never¬
theless assigned control to two of its delegates to make
sure.

■ This contact with the officers of the Generalkommando
furnished a solution to the puzzle of why I had not
been arrested during the war, although some of my
less active comrades had been. One of the officers
asked me, “ Do you know, Frau ^ Sender, why you

1 In German political life it is customary to refer to a woman who
takes part in public affairs as Frau (“ Mrs.”) whether or not she be
married. It was as Frau Sender that the author of this autobiography
became known in Germany. It was natural, on her trips to this
country, for “ Frau ” to be translated as “ Mrs.” and the author there¬
fore has become known as Mrs. Sender though she never has married.

102 '

Days of -Remlution

were not arrested ? '’ ' My answer was^ Because I
committed no offence !

I don’t know about that,” he retorted, but I do
know that the high command of the army wanted
your arrest and asked your employer to dismiss you
from your position in the metal trust. But your em¬
ployer declared he would not dismiss you ; that your
activities after office hours were none of his concern.
He said he was convinced, however, that you would
not work against the interests of the nation, and he
was willing to give a guarantee for your loyal attitude.
This guarantee gave you your liberty.”

I was amazed. Of course I was convinced I had
acted during the entire war in the best interests of
the nation. But the chivalry of my employer in
assuming such an undertaking with the liighest
military authority, without mentioning a word to
me, was impressive indeed.

Things had finally begun to move rapidly in Berlin,
too. A Council of People’s Representatives was
formed, taking the place of a central government.
My friend and party leader, Hugo Haase, was one
of the members. They rendered accounts to the
newly formed Workers’ and Soldiers’ Councils of
Berlin. The Kaiser and the Crown Prince had
renounced the throne. Strangely enough, the news
of this event did not provoke a sensation. The
German monarchy’s abdication was acknowledged
without regret.

Our Workers’ Council undertook its duties immedi¬
ately. It elected its executive, of which I became a
member with the function of secretary. The council
was very popular. Many personalities and people of

103

Toni Sender

all classes wanted to become members, but their
admission would have been at variance with the
purpose of the new institution : to be the expression
of the new forces, disinherited in the old regime,
which had taken over power to build up a new state.
As secretary, I was in charge of admissions. During
our first meeting, Dr. Hermann Luppe, the deputy
mayor of the city, and Dr. Wilhelm Cohnstadt, editor
of the Frankfurter !feitung^ appeared and demanded
the right to enter in the name of the Liberal party.
There was great embarrassment among the members
of the council who guarded the entrance. Could one
refuse admission to the mayor and a well-known
editor? I went to the door and asked the gentle¬
men what they desired. They repeated their request.

I am very sorry, gentlemen, but you cannot enter
as long as you are not members of the Workers’ Council.
They only are assembled here, not the old parties.”

A moment of surprise—but my decision was ac¬
cepted. Later we became very good friends, and often,
when we met, my dear friend. Dr. Cohnstadt, would
remind me that at our first meeting I had shut the
door in his face. In his fine feeling for justice he
recognized, however, that I was perfectly right and
that a similar attitude by the leaders of the revolution
in big as well as in small things would have led us
further towards our objectives. Alas, Wilhelm Cohn¬
stadt, a genuine republican and one of the finest
characters I have met, became one of the first victims
of the counter-revolution of 1933. He escaped the
Nazis and found asylum in the United States, but he
could not survive humiliation and exile. The bar¬
barians had killed a too sensitive soul.

104

Days of Revolution

The tasks of the Workers’ and Soldiers’ Councils
were manifold. Not only was it necessary to keep the
normal functioning of the administration under con¬
trol^ but emergencies came up almost every hour.
The formation of Farmers’ Councils was demanded
by some villages a.nd they asked for military protec¬
tion. People came to offer their services, others
wanted information. The university had to be put
under the control of the Workers’ Council. Dr. Hugo
Sinzheimer, the new police commissioner, took it
upon himself to accomplish this task and addressed
the university senate in a speech characteristic of the
spirit of the revolution.

I come,” he said, to tell you that the new Ger¬
many wants to cultivate the intellect and humanism.
The representatives of the revolution are inspired by
reverence for both. We don’t come to offer you
coercion and oppression. What I have to offer you
is freedom and confidence, freedom for science and
research. You have only to serve the truth and
nothing else.”

The rector of the university answered that the
faculty and senate recognized the authority of the
Workers’ Council, but it was symptomatic that at
this early moment the students tried to protest. They
did not appreciate the liberty for science and truth
offered by the republic and later helped to bring on
the regime of oppression and regimentation of science,
where the search for truth for truth’s sake is pro¬
hibited.

We had decided to send a delegation to the City
Council to put it under the control of the Workers’
Council. The City Council assembled for that pur-

105

Toni Sender

pose. Georg Bernard, a worker and an officer of the
Metal Workers Union, led the delegation with much
dignity. When he had ended his address and the
mayor, after deliberation with the senior members,
had announced that the City Council and all officials
of the city accepted the Workers’ Council as the
highest authority, Bernard asked the mayor to hoist
the red flag on the City Hall tower. He had been
foresighted enough to bring a large red flag with him,
so there was no chance for delay !

But there was still the Board of Aldermen, the
more conservative body of the city administration,
composed mostly of learned elderly gentlemen. I
was among the four representatives assigned by the
Workers’ Council to control all activity of the board.
They had to invite me to every one of their meetings.
And they did, though reluctantly. The three men
assigned to the task with me seldom appeared, so
that I had to lead the fight with the old men all by
myself. Some of them, of course, thought they could
take advantage of this fact and tried to bind me to
rash commitments. But I was on my guard.

“ What is the Workers’ Council’s opinion on the
subject ? ” one of them would suddenly shoot at me,
in the hope of embarrassing this young person, ignor¬
ing my business experience and the responsibilities I
had handled before. Quietly I would answer, if the
matter was sufficiently familiar to me. When it was
not, I simply admitted the fact and asked for suspen¬
sion of the decision until I had discussed the problem
with the council’s executive. One of the aldermen, a
Professor S., nevertheless tried the manoeuvre again
and again, although in vain. He probably did not

io6

Days of Redolution

realize that I had begun to enjoy the procedure as a
useful and pleasant mental sportj a good^ preparatory
school for my subsequent activities. I am still grateful
to the old gentlemen who tried so hard to torture me.

During those first weeks of the republic I had very
little time to sleep. Many a night we had to work
straight through on great problems. What should be
done with the 70,000 or 80,000 munitions workers
and the returning soldiers ? The employers intended
to go on with the manufacture of munitions. Of
course they assumed that government contracts v/ould
go on. We rigidly opposed that idea. This was a new
regime that wanted to show the world its will for
peace. Our decision was that the manufacture of war
instruments had to be stopped immediately. We
would collaborate in the shift to peace production,
but would not permit discharge of workers. The
working day was to be not longer than eight hours,
and we reduced it to only four hours, when necessary,
to make place for the homecoming soldiers.

A bad omen appeared in the early hours of the
revolution, when the first news of the armistice con¬
ditions was received. It was the first -snew^hat fell
on the young buds of our revolutionary expectations.
The Allies demanded immediate evacuation of Bel¬
gium and France—which was only just—but also,
within fourteen days, of Alsace-Lorraine, which was
more difficult since it had been German territory for
almost fifty years. The allies, moreover, demanded
evacuation of the left bank of the Rhine by German
troops, delivery of 5,000 locomotives and 150,000
railway cars, a neutral zone on the right bank of the
Rhine, payment by Germany for the maintenance

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Toni Sender

of the foreign army of occupation, and the release of
prisoners of war without reciprocity for captured
Germans. The blockade was to go on. German ships
might be seized. The last two conditions were a very
poor promise for. the coming peace treaty. They be¬
trayed a spirit without mercy for the German people,
who had driven out those responsible for the policy
of the past and who now manifested a strong and
spontaneous will for peace and justice. Alas ! The
Allies did not understand this and lost a wonderful
opportunity to make a better world. It is to a large
extent on account of this blind spirit of victory and
revenge that two decades later the world is paying
with war and the waste of billions.

The hostility of the foreign authorities towards the
new people’s state manifested itself in still another
way. When the representatives of the Allies came to
negotiate the conditions for the execution of the
armistice, a British admiral demanded that no repre¬
sentative of the Workers’ and Soldiers’ Councils be a
member of the German negotiating committee—an
open affront to the German republican masses. All
our attempts to plead for more understanding for
our cause abroad were of no avail. As early as
November 15 the women of Frankfurt sent a radio
message to the United States imploring the Allies to
end the hunger blockade, which, now that the war
was over, was directed exclusively against the civil
population, starving women and babies. Shortly after
that the Government of the People’s Commissars sent
an appeal to the working classes of all countries to
help end the hunger war against a defenceless people.
But all in vain—the Allies were inexorable against the

108

Days of Redolution

republic. The blockade continued after the signing
of the armistice.

What an almost impossible task it was under these
circumstances for the Workers’ and Soldiers’ Councils
to provide the population with food ! The situation
was further complicated by the dislocations involved
in demobilizing an army of millions of soldiers. Add
to this the fact that all soldiers had to be withdrawn
not only from foreign soil but also from the left
bank of the Rhine by December 9. Since Frankfurt
was one of the central points of the border near the
territory to be occupied by the Allies after the armistice,
our councils were responsible for bringing back the
troops with the utmost speed. The soldiers would
otherwise become prisoners of war.

They were mostly unknown men who took care
of this tremendous task—and it was almost a miracle
that they succeeded. Frankfurt had put at the dis¬
posal of the troops fifty-two of her schools. At one
station and on a single day 60,000 soldiers were re¬
ceived ! It was a terrific task, demanding a maxi¬
mum of devotion and talent for organization. What
bothered us as much as board for the soldiers was
their political tendencies. These were men from the
trenches who had not read an honest newspaper for
a long period and were ignorant of much that had
happened. Many, so we were told, were still under
the influence of their conservative officers. Rapidly
we had to prepare leaflets informing the soldiers of
recent events. Messengers were sent to meet them
before their arrival in Frankfurt.

During these weeks I was still an employee of the
metal trust. I knew that my employer was being

109

Toni Senior

urged by the heads of other firms to fire me. They
thought it intolerable that a person so active in the
revolution should be the head of a department of a
capitalist concern. Not wishing to damage the firm,
I asked my employer if he thought we could go on
in spite of the fact that I was at the office very irregu¬
larly, for I was frequently detained by Workers’
Council activities. Again I met the same generous
attitude.

“ If you think you can serve the common good, I
do not want to prevent you fi-om doing so. I know
you will tell me if ever you feel that your activities
in both fields are incompatible,” Dr. S. replied.

In those days it was considered a privilege to obtain
a permit to ride on the railways or to drive a car.
Permits were issued by the Workers’ and Soldiers’
Councils. If it was a privilege, it certainly was no
pleasure. Train equipment had run down during
the war. On account of the coal shortage, cars were
not heated. And it happened to be a cold winter.
Besides being occupied with my office work, my
activity for the Workers’ Council, and my control of
the Board of Aldermen, I was one of the main party
speakers for a large district, including the provinces
of Hessen-Nassau and Hessen-Kassel and the state of
Baden. Though I had caught a severe cold, I had,
nevertheless, to go on with my work—^you cannot go
to the hospital when you are needed for things that
promise to prepare a great future. Worse than
the unheated railway cars were the old, worn-out,
open army automobiles put at our disposal! Not
only was one exposed to cold, rain, and wind, but
these cars had come from the front and had not been

no

Days of Redolution

repaired or given any attention. They usually broke
down when one was riding late in the night on a
distant highway in a drenching rain, or snow. One
had to stop and waitj sometimes for hours, until the
necessary repairs were made, the tyres vulcanized, or
often more difficult work done. There was not much
traffic on the highways, especially at so late an hour.
Often it was breakfast time before we returned to
Frankfurt. After two or three meetings the same
evening in different towns, where I usually was the
only speaker, I felt some need for a rest—but was
glad when I found the time for a shower.

On one of those numerous trips to Baden we almost
became French prisoners. Driving back during the
night from Mannheim on a slippery road, in snowy
weather, all of a sudden, on our w^ay through the
Messeler Park, we ran into French bayonets ! We
did not know that the French had occupied the
territory that night. My driver was terrified. He
saw himself a French prisoner.

Be calm,’’ I told him, and do as I tell you.®^

I spoke to the soldiers in my best Parisian accent
explaining to them my ignorance and desire to comply
with the law. I did not miscalculate. Being ap¬
proached by a lady, they responded as gentlemen and
said they would not see us if we vanished.

“ Rush back as fast as you can,’’ I told my driver,
who had not understood a word of our conversation
but who did as ordered and was mighty glad to
escape.

Finally, I could not withstand the drain on my
strength any longer. A high fever and a severe attack
of influenza affected my lungs. The doctor told my

III

Toni Sender

sister Recha, who by chance had come that day to
Frankfurt, that my family should be prepared for
the end. But I survived the critical night, and, as
soon as I could think again, wrote the articles which
our weekly expected from me. But the fever persisted
and I had to stay in bed.

Meanwhile,'the government had decided on elections
to the Constituent Assembly as early as January 19.
The campaign had to begin very soon. Our con¬
stituency included territory occupied by the Allied
armies, and everyone who wanted to address meet¬
ings in the occupied zone needed a special permit
from the foreign military authorities. In our party
I was the only one who had been granted such a
permit for certain specified days. Those days were
approaching, and the high fever had not yet left me.
Robert came to see me.

“ I am sorry,” he said, “ but you are the only one
who has received permission to speak. Here are the
permits. We cannot possibly let them expire without
making use of them. You must go, Toni. Do your
best.”

“ Fm afraid I haven’t the strength yet to do it,” I
felt compelled to answer. “ I still feel dizzy and am
afraid I could not stand on my feet and speak for an
hour.” '

“Then speak less than an hour,” Robert replied.
“ It is impossible for the party not to be heard in the
occupied territory before election day.”

“ All right. I will try it.”

And they sent an open army car to take me to
Hochst, Hattersheim, and other occupied towns. It
was physically my most difficult job. My fever was

112

Days of Remlution

high. I was too dizzy to stand during my speech and
had to ask for a chair. I went through with all the
meetings, but when I finally reached home I felt I
would collapse.

Similar foolhardy experiences gnawed at my health.

I should have to pay for it later. But in those days
duty to the cause came before everything else—^family,
personal interest, health—everything.

The date for convening the Constituent Assembly
had become the crucial point of a controversy be¬
tween the two wings of the revolution—a controversy
that was reflected in our Workers’ Council. The con¬
servatives of all shades suddenly were tremendously
enthusiastic about democracy. They could not have
it fast enough.

“ As quickly as possible, the Constituent Assembly !
Equal rights for every citizen ! ” they shouted. No
delay of general elections !

The overwhelming majority of us were for democ¬
racy, but that could not prevent those among us
who had understood the meaning of the revolution
from demanding that the government should first satisfy
the claims of the revolutionary masses : accomplish
such a change in the fundamental structure of the new
repubhc that a repetition of such disasters as the
World War would be made impossible.

To accomplish this, we must dethrone those powers
responsible for the past—otherwise all the work of
the revolution would have to be repeated some day,
and possibly the price of this negligence would be
very high. However, there was a strange combina¬
tion of forces against us. All the reactionaries saw their
opportunity to escape any fundamental change and

Toni Sender

shouted, “ Election ! Democracy ! ” The Majority
Socialists (the right wing) were not prepared for
revolutionary changes and were perfectly satisfied to
have only parliamentary government. The soldiers,
weary and desiring only to get back home and again
lead a normal life, joined them. The discussion came
up in our Frankfurt Workers’ Council. We showed
that it was against the interest of the republic to pre¬
cipitate the elections. The soldiers returned home
slowly. Many of them had been out of touch with
political matters for four years. The Independent
Social Democratic Party, during the entire period of
the war, had been cut off firom public opinion, and
all its public activity had been prohibited. We had
to reach the masses before a fundamental decision
was taken.

“ They could wait almost sixty years, without giving
us equal rights,” Robert exclaimed in the Workers’
Gotmcil meeting. “ Now suddenly they manifest such
a suspicious love for democracy.”

It was in the same mood that I addressed a mass
meeting on December i, 1918.

“ The heavy burden that will follow the war can
be borne only by a society that has changed the entire
structure of the state. The inexorable armistice con¬
ditions are to be attributed not to the revolution but
to the unfortunate treaty of Brest-Litovsk dictated by
the regime of the Kaiser. But the other side, those
who are now putting their feet on a defeated nation’s
neck, should not forget that a certain kind of victory
may imply defeat in the future.”

These words, spoken in 1918, to-day sound almost
hke a prophecy. ...

114

Days of Revolution

When yon are active in public life during a revolu¬
tion, it is inevitable that you create enemies. Some
people suspect your intentions because, arguing from
their own characters, they cannot imagine anybody’s
acting from a feeling of duty to the common good. I
received many scurrilous letters, using expressions
such as ‘'sow”, “ filthy hag ”, etc. Some of these
letters contained threats of murder. Naturally there
were also letters from unknown friends expressing
their appreciation. I did not pay any attention to
threats ; the letters immediately were thrown into
the wastepaper basket. But others seemed to take
the threats more seriously. One day I was summoned
to appear before the representative of the French
military authority in the neutral zone, the Marquis
de X.

“ Do you know that your life is threatened ? ” he
asked me.

" I do not think so, monsieur,” I replied, although
I had already received some threatening letters.
“ Those who plan murder usually don’t announce it”

" I would not be too confident,” he went on. “ Our
service has information that makes us consider the
threats more seriously. Are you armed ? ”

“No, monsieur, I have never had a gun in my
hands and I would not know how to handle one.”

“ Here is a small revolver. Take it and I shall
show you how to handle it.”

I accepted the weapon and received from this
French officer my first lesson in marksmanship. It
was not to be the only time in my life when I was
threatened with death.

Towards the end of 1918 my party decided to pub-

115

Toni Sender

lish a daily newspaper for our district and to make
me the editor. They asked me to give up my position
in the metal concern and to accept the new job. I
was reluctant, for I had no experience in editorial
work. I had never done any before. They certainly
could find somebody who was better qualified than
I. Besides that, I did not want to give up my position
in business. I had achieved recognition, was receiving
a high salary, and had a promising future before me.
I had worked for years to obtain recognition of a
woman’s ability to assume such responsibilities, had
gone through many painful experiences in order to
obtain equal rights and equal opportunities for a
woman.

And there is another, perhaps a more serious,
reason,” I went on. “I have always loved to work
for the movement, but have done it as an honorary
job without receiving any salary for it. That has
given me great independence, which I would hate
to surrender. Of course this situation means a double
job—one professional during the daytime, and another,
voluntary, at night. But I prefer this double burden
for the sake of my liberty. I do not want to receive
any money for my activity in the movement.”

“ That sounds very unselfish and proud, but don’t
you see that it is actually quite egoistic ? ” Robert
asked me. Do you think I am less proud and inde¬
pendent than you because I devote my entire time
and strength to the movement and receive a modest
salary for it? ”

This impressed me as somewhat justified. I asked
for three days to think the matter through. When,
after this period, they continued to urge me to accept

ii6

Days of Revolution

the job with a small salary (not half of what I received
at the metal firm), I accepted. When I went to my
employer to tell him the news, he was surprised and
tried to dissuade me. Unsuccessful, he invited me to
his home to discuss the matter more fully, I would
not find the satisfaction I expected, he suggested.
And I certainly would not receive any gratitude for
the sacrifice I was going to make. I should listen
to the advice of an older, more experienced man, one
who had no other motive but my interest, he argued.

I have considered that many times, Mr. S./’ I
replied, and am very grateful for your kindness, I
know I can expect no gratitude for what I shall do.
The only reward will be in the feeling of having
done my duty. But I think that in these days, where
labour is confronted with so many new tasks, we just
have to help, be it in our personal interest or not.’'

A last attempt was made by my employer when he
sent to me Professor A., a scientific consultant of the
firm who knew me well firom our business relation¬
ship and who always had shown genuine interest in
my career. He told me of the experience of his
brother-in-law, who had been a secretary of the
Bavarian government and had, in spite of his strong
idealism, been gradually disillusioned.

“ I have no illusions. I am prepared for ingratitude.
I think I have to go my way,” I replied.

So I parted, not without regret, from men who had
shown me friendship and recognition, to begin a
career which was accompanied by many hardships
but which did not lack the leaven of true comradeship.
My introduction to the Volksrechty our new daily
paper, was a rather cruel one. Only one day of

117 I

Toni Sender

apprenticeship was afforded me. I went to Halle,
where I had a good friend, an editor of a daily.
During a few hours’ talk he gave me a rapid course
in the technique of tire profession. And then I
started. The office I was given looked very inaus¬
picious. It was not very clean and was furnished
only with a rudimentary table and chair, a glue-pot,
and scissors. Was that all they offered me? No,
there was something more for which I was not too
well prepared. No sooner had I begun to work than
I was afflicted with bites. Looking for the cause, I
discovered that the place swarmed with fleas ! But
there was no choice—the paper had to be ready and
I had to do my work. By evening my whole body
looked tattooed. I found out that until the evening
before the place had been used by soldiers returning
from the front. They carried the insects and seemed
to be immune to them. I certainly would never
have returned to the place if I had had my way.

I assume that few of my newspaper colleagues
abroad have had to go through such experiences as I
did at the outset of my journalistic career. Appointed
chief editor, I found that my duties were manifold.
There were two of us to do all the editorial work for
a daily afternoon paper that had to compete with
others of long standing. And we did it successfully.
My field was home and foreign affairs, labour, litera¬
ture, the arts. We had very few contributors because
we could not pay them. My colleague handled local
and district matters. The only way to get the paper
ready in time was to start in the early morning hours.
That was necessary also because in the beginning the
printing plant lacked modern equipment. To get the

ii8

Days of Revolution

paper out, I had to begin work at three-thirty or
four in the morning, to a large extent writing most
of the paper myself

I had to write all the editorials and the news leaders,
taking a stand on all important problems. In many
cases we were the first to tackle the discussion of new
problems. Of course, that required a tremendous
amount of concentration , and strict self-discipline.
When, later, important discussions started in the
Constituent Assembly in Weimar, I asked a friend, a
member of the assembly, to give me a report every
night by telephone. These reports came late in the
night because, as in the rest of the world, rates were
then cheaper. It was all our paper could afford.
The only way one person alone could handle it was
to remain in the office throughout the night. At first
I arranged a bed out of newspapers, but my associates
recognized that that was too uncomfortable, and I
was offered a couch.

My working day during this period was between
nineteen and twenty hours. The executive of the
Workers’ Council required my services almost daily,
and the evenings were taken up by lectures and meet¬
ings. I nevertheless found time to write a series of
articles on the fundamentals of ^*Wage, Price, and
Currency ”, which were published in a booklet and
much discussed. Shortly after that a young student
came to see me at the newspaper office.

I come in the name of Professor G. of the Univer¬
sity of Frankfurt. We plan to discuss your pamphlet
in his seminar, and the professor invites you to attend
the discussion.”

I should love to do so,” I replied, especially

119

Toni Sender

because I know Professor G. is a conservative, but my
day has only twenty-four hours and twenty of them
are already taken by work. So I am sorry I have to
resist the temptation.”

And the temptation was great indeed ; first of all
because I love an intellectual fight, and still more
because I should have liked to discuss timely economic
problems with young people who had not yet found
their places in the new order. However, once you
are in public life you can no longer do all the things
you like. Other and sometimes very unpleasant
obligations approach you.

One day as I was working on current problems at
the executive of the Workers’ Council, a telephone call
came from a friend at poHce headquarters.

“ In the old part of the city a mob is starting to loot
shops and police stations,” he said. “ Aren’t there a
few comrades who could rush immediately to the
scene of the riot and try to prevent the people from
continuing their plundering ? The police chief wants
to avoid bloodshed, if possible, but it can be done
only with your help.”

Robert Dissmann and I declared ourselves ready
to make an effort. Before we could leave the
Workers’ Council building, another message came
telHng us that a crowd of rioters had gone to the
court-house to set it on fire. Hastily we agreed that
Robert should go to the court-house while I went to
the old city.

I rushed towards the river—and my guess was right.
As in all very old cities, there were slums, and some
slum dwellers were not responsive to the new Germany.
Among them were many honest people, real workers

120

Days of Revolution

and trade unionists. But in those narrow, winding
alleys other elements too found refuge.

Crowds were massed before a police station at the
quay of the Main. Reams of files had been throwm
from the windows. The station had been set on fire.
Among the crowd a few men' recognized me. Quickly
I explained my task and asked them to lift me on
their shoulders so that I could address the crowd.
They did as I asked and I started to speak, warning
the decent people among the crowd not to tolerate
acts which could please only enemies of the revolu¬
tion. The workers would be held responsible. It
was very suspicious, I shouted, that some elements
should instigate an act that could only soil the cause
of the masses. I could not go on. Some, in the crowd
tried to support me, which was only the signal for the
instigators of the looting and arson to shout :

“ Into the river with her. Let her follow the
sailor.”

Someone approached me.

For God’s sake, stop or you will be lost. Only
ten minutes ago they drowned a sailor, sent by the
police commissioner, who tried to quiet the crowd just
as you are doing. Don’t you see you cannot reason
with this mob ? ”

And with all his energy he pulled me away. I
probably owe him my life but have never knowm even
his name.

The experience made me apprehensive for Robert’s
safety. I rushed to the court-house. A huge crowd
had gathered around it. From the windows of the
building men were throwing the court’s files on a big
heap in the street. From time to time there was the

I2I

Toni Sender

crack of an explosion. Ringleaders had put grenades
on the heap and these were exploding.

'' Where is Robert^ has anybody seen him ? I
asked in anxiety.

He is in the building trying to stop the looters.’’

I tried to get into the court-house. The police
implored me to desist.

'' Then try to find Robert Dissmann. He may be
in danger.”

They promised and finally came out with Robert,
who was exhausted but who had succeeded in quench¬
ing the fire that the plunderers had started to set in
the building.

We barely had time to exchange our experiences
when a new message reached us.

The mob is starting to loot the shops in the centre
of the city. Do go and stop them.”

This time we asked police assistance For hours we
followed the route of the rioters. Late in the evening
all was over—without further loss of life. We could
be proud of the achievement of the Workers’ Council
and the police of Frankfurt.

Soon afterwards it came out that some special inter¬
ests must have been behind the plunderers. Particu¬
lar sets of files had been destroyed in the court-house
and in some police stations, files proving usurious
trade and frauds by war and blockade profiteers.
They had aroused the mob for their own purposes—
and an honest sailor had lost his life. General blood¬
shed had been avoided by a hair’s breadth.

122

VI

COUNTER-REVOLT: THE KAPP PUTSCH

What we thought would become the social revolu¬
tion did not develop in the direction or with the
speed planned by those of us who had sat together
on the night of November S-g. The result of the
elections to the Constituent Assembly gave a majority
to those parties opposed to a fundamental social
change. Our apprehensions when we resisted a pre¬
cipitate convocation of that assembly were completely
justified. The masses of the people could not find
their orientation during such a short period. Especi¬
ally backward were the millions of soldiers. Even
those at home had been prevented by a thorough
censorship from learning what was going on in the
country. Was it intentional that those who hastened
elections did not give us a chance to enlighten the
people ? While the Independent Socialists won only
twenty-two seats in the elections of January, 1919,
to the Constituent Assembly, on March 2 of the
same year the result of the municipal elections in
Prussia confirmed the expectation that time would
work for us.

In the- city of Frankfurt the Independent Socialists
elected eight members out of ninety to the City
Council. I was one of them, the only woman of my

123

Toni Sender

party. With the exception of Heinrich Huttmann,
we were all newcomers. But never before or since
have I met a group in which collaboration was more
genuine or comradeship more sincere. Most of us
were active political leaders with many other respon¬
sibilities. The municipalities in the new state had
many new tasks—especially Frankfurt, because of its
location in the “ neutral ” zone under partial control
of the French. We knew we would be under severe
scrutiny as a new group and also that our followers
expected much more from us than from the average
councilman. I, more than the others, had to meet
and vanquish prejudice.

“ What can this firebrand accomplish in a City
Council ? ” my opponents said.

They were afraid of me during the period of the
revolution and expected only incendiary words. I
knew it and was conscious of the fact that I had to
show them that to be a revolutionary in the true
sense of the word implies also the faculty of working
constructively and the ability to co-operate. My
party assigned to me the task of serving on the Com¬
mittee for Social Problems and on the Board of
Education. The Council met once a week and the
committees sometimes more frequently. Every one
of us had to study all the matters on the agenda, the
proposals and decrees, before our group met. Rapidly
we divided the tasks. My fellow SociaHsts were
greatly surprised when I told them, at our first group
meeting, that one of the men would have to deal
with matters concerning household problems. I
would not do it, for every one of my opponents was
prepared to scoff at me, knowing that I was not

124

Counter-Revolt: The Kapp Putsch

managing a household myself. I would not expose
my weak spots. My fnends laughed and agreed.
In return I offered to take on part of the debates
and discussions in the full sessions—a job in which
I had acquired special skill through my experience
in the wartime meetings and at the sessions with the
old gentlemen of the Board of Aldermen.

What made the work in the City Council so
pleasant and enjoyable was arousing the interest of
the masses in city affairs and being supported by
pubhc opinion. The galleries, always empty in the
old times, were now crowded. The public kept close
contact with our work. It gave us a strong incentive
and lent vigour to our speeches as well as to our work.
The City Council during this period was an interest¬
ing scene for the citizens. And it must be so if we
want democracy to be a \drile regime. Many years
later, after Robert and I had left Frankfurt, I met a
former City Council colleague of the People’s party
(big business party). “ How we regret that you and
Dissmann have left us !” he said to me. Although
we did not agree, there was hfe in the City Council
when you were active there ! ”

Our work in the plenary meetings was sometimes
spectacular, but that on the committees was not.
However, we did create important institutions that
lasted until the dictator came and destroyed munici¬
pal self-government. I took special pride in the
achievement of one difficult task : the munftipaliza-
tion of all welfare institutions, institutions which cared
for human beings in need from the cradle to the
grave. Our idea was to give persons who were in
need through no fault of their own the right to

125

Toni Sender

community support and not to force them to the
humiliation of begging for charity. It was a tre¬
mendous task in a time of economic and financial
difficulties for all municipalities and could be carried
through only with the broad understanding that the
deputy mayor of the city showed—the same man to
whom I had to show the door at our first Workers’
Council meeting ! He did not bear a grudge because
of that incident, for he realized that useful work
could be done by collaboration. The burial of the
dead, among other things, became municipalized.
It was handled without profit and with delicate tact.
Class differences vanished, at least at the gate of the
cemetery.

Not less interesting was the influence of the new
forces in the school system. With the help of a few
very liberal-minded teachers Frankfurt was among
the first cities to create modern municipal school
systems immediately after the war. When I came
to these schools and attended classes to see how our
ideas worked in practice, I envied the pupils who
were being given such a cheerful childhood while
their learning in no way suffered. Not only those
who entered school as little children enjoyed the care
of the new state, but also those who had prematurely
left school and gone into shops and offices. For
eight hours a week, during the daytime, their
employers had to permit them to attend continua¬
tion classes which we made compulsory for all
apprentices. Here, too, something new had to be
built up.

A rather delicate though highly necessary task was
the hiring of new teachers for schools and Gymnasien

126

Counter-Revolt: The Kapp Putsch ■

(corresppnding to elementary and secondary schools
in Great Britain). It was urgent that we liberal¬
ize the staffs. The republic had set itself the task
of bringing up the youth in the spirit of love for
peace and freedom. Many of the old teachers be¬
longed to the class of supernationalists. As many
of them as possible had to be replaced. But
caution had to be practised. Not infrequently we
encountered those who had put red ribbons in their
buttonholes through no deep conwction. On the
other hand, where we met teachers with genuinely
democratic political convictions but insufficient scholar¬
ship, we refused to reduce the standards we had set
for our new school system. It often entailed a hard
fight with the representatives of the parties of the
right to effect the engagement of progressive teachers
and professors, and it became harder with every year
that we became further removed from the November
revolution.

My memor}^ of the City Council work, neverthe¬
less, is a friendly one, because we met one another
with respect, our discussions were on a high level,
and we accomplished constructive tasks. Fortun¬
ately, I did not experience Nazi councilmen—their
presence later changed the entire atmosphere.

Shortly after my election I had an experience, as
a party leader and newspaper editor, which almost
brought us to a terrible catastrophe. One afternoon
I was alone in the newspaper office. A tali, rather
tMn woman, apparently pregnant, appeared at the
newspaper office and asked for me. I received her
and listened to what she had to say.

I am a German White Guard officer’s wife, but
127

Toni Sender

am myself heart and soul with the revolution—
reason enough for my husband to persecute me. I
had to escape from the coast, where he lives. I am
expecting my baby next week and must go as fast
as possible to Augsburg (Bavaria), where I have a
good friend in Comrade T., who certainly will help
me. But in order to be able to travel further with¬
out danger I need a passport in some name other
than my own. I know you have enough influence
with the police commissioner to be able to have such
a passport delivered to me. The White Guards are
on my heels and everything has to be done with the
greatest speed. Do feel with me as a woman, help
me. Here, see my credentials.’’

And she gave me a number of letters from known
comrades in different cities on the coast. Would it
not be a simple act of humanity to help this seem¬
ingly unhappy woman and give her a chance to give
birth to her baby in the calm of the Bavarian moun¬
tains ? The credentials she had presented seemed to
be perfect. Why then did an inner voice warn me
to be careful ? The woman made an unpleasant
impression upon me. Slight doubts of her pregnancy
arose in my mind. I answered her :

I do not know whether I can assist you. I must
talk the matter over with my friends. Can I help
you to stay somewhere during the night ? ”

No, thank you, I have already found friendly
people, friends of yours, who have given me hos¬
pitality.”

She gave me the name of her hosts, very poor,
honest comrades.

After she had left me I was very restless. My
128

Comter-Revolt: The Kapp Putsch

doubts became stronger and stronger. She looked
almost like a man—was she really pregnant ? Some¬
thing about her seemed to grate on me. But all her
papers and credentials were genuine ! I pondered
over this for a great part of the night. I never was
pitiless tow^ard human beings in trouble. Should I
urge the police commissioner to help her ? He
probably would do it upon my request. But why
this inner doubt ? If something were wTong about
this person, I w^ould be jeopardizing our entire
position in the police organization, compromising
the Workers’ Council, and possibly giving the counter¬
revolution an eagerly awaited pretext for bloodshed.
It had happened elsewhere !

To issue a false passport and then to be denounced
by a spy—that would mean the intervention of the
federal authorities in our police affairs. This inter¬
vention might serve as a pretext to arouse the masses
and provoke them to an uprising. I felt that the
entire responsibility lay on me. Finally I made up
my mind. I had two alternatives—to refuse help
to a woman in need and expose one individual to
more hardship ; and to hazard the revolution’s
important influence in the police department. I
decided that for the moment I had to sacrifice the
individual and guard the collective interest. After
the decision was made I was calm and firm.

I informed the person in charge at the newspaper
office not to bring the woman to my room but to tell
her that I was sorry I was unable to help her. At
the same time I warned my friends at police head¬
quarters and told them of my decision. The personnel
at the newspaper were furious. They thought me

129

Toni Sender

cruel and heartless and gave the “ pregnant ’’ woman
all the hospitality she wanted.

Many months later, after I had become a member
of the Reichstag, I was shocked to learn the true
identity of the woman who had so mysteriously
solicited my assistance in Frankfurt. Her name came
out during proceedings of our Reichstag group against
a member involved in the intrigues of a monarchist
spy. My caller proved to be none other than the
infamous spy and agent-provocateur, Frau Schrbder-
Mahnke, who was responsible for many riots and
shootings and for the killing of many workers in the
uprisings she had provoked. She was neither preg¬
nant nor persecuted by the White Guards. On the
contrary, she was in their service and had provoked
the massacre of workers in Kiel. Later, disguised
as a man, she was brought into the cells of jailed
revolutionaries to win their confidence and make
them confess. She would then appear in the courts
as a witness against her former prison-mates. Then
only did I learn what a terrible danger we had
escaped, thanks to my distrust and the strong instinct
that had warned me.

The dissatisfaction of great masses of workers with
the trend of political developments was demonstrated
to the delegates of the first post-war convention of
the Independent Socialist party in March, 1919.
While we delegates were gathering in Berlin, a general
strike was declared by the restive workers of the city.
Delegates entering the former Herrenhaus, where
the convention took place, had to pass streets where
machine-guns were firing * and the shooting con¬
tinued during all the days of our deliberations. It

130

Counter-Revolt: The Kapp Putsch

was a political strike. The workers saw in it the only
means of expressing first their demand for more
decisive revolutionary measures and specifically their
opposition to the formation of military organizations
under the leadership of officers of the old German
army. The central government obviously was im¬
pressed by this action, and while the strike and the
shooting were still going on, we saw huge posters
appear on the walls of the city with the promise of the
government (in which we Independent Social Demo¬
crats were no longer represented) '' Socialization is
on the march 'k It always remained on the march
and never arrived at the goal.

But a genuine revolutionary spirit was reflected in
the discussions of the convention. I took a leading
part in them. Actually it was my official entry upon
the national scene of German politics.

Our representatives in the Government of the
People’s Commissars should not have given their
consent to the speedy convocation of the Constituent
Assembly,” I declared. You answer my criticism
with the argument that the assembly was forced to
convene so quickly because during our whole past
history we always had demanded democracy and a
free ■ suffrage. That is true. But we were experi¬
encing a revolution which created a new law and
required a new attitude. It W'as most regrettable
that there was no co-ordination between the work
of the Workers’ and Soldiers’ Councils in the different
parts of. the country and that of the assembly.

The revolution had the task of establishing solid
bases for the young republic by dethroning those
powers of the past which' through their economic

131

Toni Sender

strength held the political power—the barons of the
heavy industries and the Junkers of the big agrarian
estates. However, every day while fighting for this
goal, we heard, ^ You cannot socialize now because
our entire economic machinery is in a desperate
condition.’ But do you really want to wait until
the powers of the past have so well recovered as to
become influential again ? The German people are
not by nature very revolutionary—once the revolu¬
tionary movement had been started, why did we not
immediately seize this opportunity to bring nearer
the goal of genuine political and economic liberty ? ”

The speech brought a strong echo inside and
outside the convention. There was still revolution¬
ary spirit alive—but would it be strong enough to
alter a situation that appeared more and more to
be developing towards a middle-class republic ? In
the streets shooting was going on. A state of siege
was declared. Troops appeared, the lights went out,
the strike spread. But much of the energy was
wasted—so many lives sacrificed in vain because the
efforts were restricted to a few centres and other
parts of the country did not follow suit. Also, the
strike movement lacked co-ordination and clarity in
its aims.

Of course, it must be admitted that the republic’s
relations with the victorious nations did much to
hamper the boldness of the workers’ responsible
leaders. The peace negotiations in Versailles made
it clear that the Allied powers would not take any
notice of the fundamental changes brought about
in Germany, although during the war they had
appealed to the German people to change their

132

Counter-Revolt: The Kapp Putsch

government as a condition of fair treatment for a
new Germany.

It was in the early morning hours of June 17, 19195
as I was alone in my editorial office in Frankfurt that
the text of the peace treaty as dictated by the Allies
reached me. My heart skipped beats as I read it.
Is it possible—such a blow, such a humiliation to the
young republic ? Had they forgotten all their prom¬
ises—or had they fooled us ? On top of all the
heavy financial and material burdens and the cession
of territory was the degradation of the German
people by refusal to permit Germany to enter the
League of Nations !

What should we do ? I knew our readers would
expect me to take an immediate stand, to express a
clear opinion. I had never felt a heavier responsi¬
bility. There was no one to consult but my own
conscience. What was the alternative of not sign¬
ing ? Impossible to call the people of Germany to
arms for new resistance ! The German people defin¬
itely wanted peace, were exhausted. Not to sign
would mean occupation of the most important
territories containing raw materials, intensification of
the blockade, unemployment, hunger, the death of
thousands, holding back of our war prisoners—a
catastrophe which finally would force us to sign still
more humiliating conditions. Of course I was also
aware of the dangers of accepting the dictated treaty
even under protest. It would incite nationalist
passions, burden the republic with unbearable con¬
ditions, and raise a threat of counter-revolution.
Weighing all consequences, I finally decided to
advocate signing.

133

K

Toni Sender

One factor contributed to this decision. In the same
month of June a separatist movement had been started
in the occupied Rhineland zone under the leadership
of Dr. Hans Dorten and had been furthered, if not
entirely instigated, by the French military authorities.
Could we risk a step that might develop into the dis¬
memberment of the country ? So I came out for sign¬
ing the treaty, aware of all the risks it involved, but
hoping that the peoples of the victorious nations
might soon become sober and recognize that these
terrible mistakes had to be repaired as quickly as pos¬
sible in the interest of their own countries, of the
young German republic, and of world peace. Alas—
everybody knows now that this was an illusion. The
crime of Versailles had to be paid for by a frightful
price. . . .

How many times during these months had I not
asked myself the question, has the November revolu¬
tion been too humane ? Will not this spirit of
humanity be poorly rewarded by those who can see in a
pohtical opponent only the enemy, in a new social
order only a menace to their privileges ? The long
military tradition of a nation leaves deep roots and
cannot be destroyed in a short time. It was demon¬
strated to us in the most ruthless way that we had to
deal with brutally cruel enemies. As early as January
15? 19193 the horrible news had reached us of the
cowardly murder of two noble idealists, Rosa Luxem¬
burg and Karl Liebknecht, our dear comrades who
had been seized by army officers and, defenceless
prisoners, had been killed. The reactionary army
officers—gentlemen in manners but thugs at heart—
were too cowardly to answer for their ‘ crime, and

134

Counter-Revolt: The Kapp Putsch

escaped abroad. Probably encouraged by this un¬
punished act of brutality, another soon followed. On
February 21 our friend Kurt Eisner, head of the
Bavarian revolutionary government, the poet and
dreamer, the man who had stood unflinchingly for
democracy, was fatally shot in the streets of Munich by
the young Count Arco-Valley, another representative
of the philosophy of violence.

The leaders of our movement knew that many of
them were threatened by the same fate. But none of
them would demand protection. Certainly Hugo
Haase, our honest, fearless party president, was among
those most hated because he had the courage of his
convictions. The agitation against Haase in re¬
actionary circles was extremely vicious and was
responsible for the senseless act of a weak-minded man
in October, 1919. On his way to the National
Assembly, Haase was shot; after a period of great
suffering, he died. The German labour movement
lost in h im one of its best minds, a personality with rare
qualities of character, who could find satisfaction only
in his devotion to the common good. Haase was wise
and poised in deliberations, firm and courageous in his
acts. We were deeply afflicted and the German
people felt the sad loss. His life was another tribute the
Left paid to the reaction—and it was not to be the
last.

Completely new tasks require new instruments.
We understood that a change in the social order had
to be achieved by increasing the responsibility of
those who wanted to help build up this new society.
Of course, there cannot be permanent revolution in
the sense of permanent fighting and interruption of

135

Toni Sender

economic production. However, labour was com¬
mitted to a change in its social position and functions.
Labour representatives in the shops and oflSces had not
only to improve working conditions and wages, but
also to be responsible for continuity of production in
the factories. We in the Independent Socialist party
were aware of the necessity of giving these represent¬
atives the legal right to become the deputies of the
structural change that was promised by the govern¬
ment in those bloody days of March, 1919.

The government had promised the labour move¬
ment a law which would make the shop councils the
basic instruments of socialization. It seemed to us an
effective way to prevent state bureaucracies from
developing in those industries. The National Assembly
had had elaborate and heated debates on the bill pre¬
sented by the government. When it came before the
house for a final vote, it seemed to the workers that
the promises given them had not been kept. The
Berlin trade unions, therefore, called the workers to
demonstrate before the assembly when the final dis¬
cussion began on January 13, 1920. Tens of thousands
left their shops and paraded in front of the Reichstag
building. At a given moment some tried to enter the
building. Immediately the machine-guns of the army
detachment which was guarding the building let
loose. Many dead and seriously wounded workers fell
to the pavement. The profound indignation of the
workers of our party reached deep into the ranks of
the Majority Socialists as well.

We in Frankfurt, before the bloody events in Berlin,
had decided on a similar demonstration. The shooting
before the Reichstag building made a protest the

136

Counter-Revolt: The Kapp Putsch

more imperative. By that time I had a heavier
responsibility to carry. Robert Dissmann had been
elected president of the Metal Workers Unionj and
he had been compelled to leave Frankfurt. We had
called the workers of Frankfurt for the afternoon of
January 15, 192O5 to the biggest meeting-hall of the
city to protest against the bloodshed and to put forth
labour’s demands for the shop councils bill. Two hours
before the meeting was to begin the police commis¬
sioner telephoned to me that the meeting would not
be permitted.

“ Impossible to call the meeting off at such a short
notice, Herr Polizeiprasident,” I said. '' By now the
workers have quit work and they must be marching
towards the meeting-place. It is in the interest of
peace and order to let it take place. We guarantee
an orderly course.”

I’m sorry,” came his reply. '' The meeting is not
to take place.”

^ I rushed to the meeting hall, the Schumann Theatre,
a place almost as large as New T ork’s Madison Square
^ Garden. Scarcely had I arrived when the first men
from the factories marched up. They came by entire
shops, thousands, tens of thousands. But it was
impossible to approach the hall. It was occupied by
soldiers and police. In front of it machine-guns and
barbed wire were set up as if the city were in a state
of war. Huge posters warned, Halt ! Anyone who
marches further will be shot.” It was provocative to
the highest degree. A huge number of workers massed
in front of the bayonets. I realized that the minutes
of peace might not last long. I understood the awful
possibilities and was determined to do everything to

137

Toni Sender

prevent a repetition of the Berlin shooting. But there
was no chance to address the masses in order to tell
them to return home. The police and soldiers would
have acted immediately. I had to make up my mind,
and I did it quickly. Marching along the long line of
workers standing impatiently and nervously in front
of the soldiers and the barbed wire, I whispered to
those near me, Follow me—don’t ask where.”

And the huge mass of people marched, following
me. I led them, after a quarter of an hour, to a large
square around a big monument to Bismarck. Quickly
I climbed to the top of the monument and addressed
them. I explained in a few words the meaning of our
demonstration, expressed our protest, and asked the
people to disband and go home in order not to furnish
any pretext for shooting. While I was pronouncing
the last words, I heard the trucks with the soldiers
approaching. They were furious that we had fooled
them. They did not realize that my action was the
only way to avoid bloodshed. They looked for me. I
stayed at the square, mingling with the crowd, but
they could not find me. Without any justification they
fired on us—three dead and many wounded were the
result.

That night I did not go home. I knew they would
come to arrest me. But the early morning hours found
me in the newspaper office. After a few hours of work
I happened to move to the window and was surprised
to see a crowd in the courtyard in front of our build¬
ing. I asked one of the employees to inquire about it.
After a few minutes he came back and said :

The police are looking for you. Detectives are in
the manager’s office. He is telephoning for you, pre-

138

Counter-Revolt: The Kapp Putsch

tending you are not here. Two detectives are posted
at the entrance to the manager’s office. You cannot
leave without being seen.”

Wellj I think I must leave, anyway,” I replied.

“ Please go back to the printing' plant and ask one of
the girls there to lend me her bonnet and dress.”

Soon he came back with the garments. I quickly
donned them, walked through the corridor, passing
the two detectives with a friendly Good morning,”
and entered the printing plant behind the newspaper
offices. From there I climbed down to the central
heating room in the basement. The manager was
informed and kept in contact with me.

Escape once more ! Of course I had to remain
hidden, but not necessarily in the central heating room,
which I could leave at night. Many friends offered
me asylum. I changed it every day. Only the
manager and a messenger boy knew where I was. I
went on editing the paper while the police were looking
for me. After almost a week I was tired of the under¬
ground life. Sanitary conditions during such a g>"psy
existence are not of the best. When the day of the
City Council meeting came, I decided to attend.
Naturally, the entire city knew that the police wanted
to arrest me, and there was great surprise among my
colleagues in the council when I appeared. They
asked me for an explanation of the events, which I
gave them. There was unanimous recognition of the
prudence of my behaviour during the demonstration.
But the speaker explained that City Council members
did not enjoy the privilege of parliamentary immunity,
and that he therefore could not protect me. However,
should the police enter the room, he would help me to

^39

Toni Sender

get out of the predicament. The police indeed came,
and I vanished. But the speaker kept his promise.
He intervened with the police and obtained a pledge
that they would not bother me any longer.

Normal life was not to last very long for me. The
counter-revolutionary trends became stronger, and
anyone with his ear to the ground could perceive
them. Only the republican Minister of Defence,
Gustav Noske, seemed not to have the slightest notion
of it. And yet it was in his surroundings that the coup
was brewing.

In the early morning of March 13, 1920, I was at my
newspaper desk as usual. As early as six o’clock the
telephone bell rang.

This is the Volksstimme [the Majority Socialist
newspaper]. We have just received news from Berlin
that army officers have revolted there. They have
marched into the capital and established a counter¬
revolutionary government. We must act as quickly as
possible.”

“ Thank you for your call. I will get in touch with
my party executives immediately. Together we must
call a general strike. Let us meet within two hours.”

I mobilized my comrades. Two hours later orders
were given to all workers in the city’s factories to
cease work. We called them to a huge meeting. They
came as one man. Although the Independent Social¬
ists had not supported the existing government,
headed by Bauer, a Majority Socialist, we did not
hesitate a moment to declare a general strike against the
army clique that had instigated what later became
known as the Kapp Putsch. But we declared to the
editors of the Volksstimme and the Majority Socialists in

140

Counter-Revolt: The Kapp Putsch

Frankfurt that the revolution must now. proceed to
accomplish its full work—end the counter-revolution
for ever. The Majority Socialist leaders promised they
would do this, and personally they probably meant it.

Meanwhile, the people had become vtiy excited.
Headquarters were again established in the Frankfurter
Hof. A revolutionary committee, of which I became
a member, was formed. Soon clashes occurred
between the masses and the police. After a few hours
we mourned fourteen dead and more than a hundred
wounded. A mass of workers attempted to storm the
military barracks—but were repulsed. Machine-guns
appeared in the streets, grenades were thrown. Mean¬
while, we had called all city employees on strike, and
they had responded. Telegraph and telephone centres
were occupied by the workers. What would be the
attitude of the army detachments of our district?
We soon knew. Troops marched into the city.
Cannon were pointed at the police headquarters, the
Reichsbank, the city’s main railroad station, and most
of the public buildings. The generals were asked to
whom they gave allegiance, to the legitimate govern¬
ment of Bauer—or to the Putsch cabinet of Kapp.
They avoided a definite answer.

To my mind the cannon in the city were a very clear
reply. I. had left the Frankfurter Hof for a moment
and had gone to meet some friends at the Volksrecht
office. While we were debating, a messenger arrived,
breathless, from the Majority Socialists.

You must vanish immediately, Toni Sender. I am
sent by the Majority Socialists to tell you that the
army rebels are on their way to arrest you. I am
ordered to warn you not to stay here a moment longer.’’

141

Toni Sender

My friends insisted I must immediately go into
hiding. It was too late to leave the building by the
front door. Passage through the printing plant and
into the central heating plant was impossible—nobody
had the keys.

You must climb down the back wall. We shall
help you/’ someone suggested. I agreed. We were
on the second floor, I reached the back court safely
and then rushed away into hiding. Every two hours I
had to change my place of concealment. Our news¬
paper manager, S. E., helped wonderfully by arranging
for new hiding-places. I was too well known in the
city. Anywhere some Kappist might recognize and
betray me. Despite the strike, the newspapers of the
republican parties continued to be published. They
were an important arm in the general strike. So I
too, had to go on with my newspaper work. We
published several issues each day to keep our followers
informed.

But a moment came when my friends thought it
was no longer safe for me to stay in Frankfurt. Workers
who had been arrested by the army and later released
came to tell us that a lynch atmosphere had been
created against me in the army, that all the military
leaders demanded to know my whereabouts. My
friends had therefore arranged for me to flee to the
territory occupied by the French. A Frankfurt manu¬
facturer offered me his car and chauffeur. I did not
want to go—but under the pressure of general in¬
sistence, I finally gave in.

Clad as a boy, I sat next to the chauffeur. When he
reached the French military post, where a Moroccan
soldier was posted, I talked to him in good French

142

Counter-Revolt: The Kapp Putsch

and he let us pass, although we had no permit. I
stayed with party friends, keeping in close contact with
the city by telephone, which, fortunately, was in con¬
trol of the strikers. After a few hours, I could not
stand it away from the battlefields, I asked my friends
to send the car, and take me back. I felt I was needed.
During all these days I had not undressed, had not
slept.

When I returned to Frankfurt, I heard of a sugges¬
tion to call off the strike, although the danger from
the putschists was still strong. In the confusion, the
strikers had been called to meetings in Gross-Frankfurt,
a centre of theatres and halls, and then the meetings
had, at short notice, been called off. I realized that
the second notice could not have reached all the
strikers in time. The confusion would be fatal to the
strike.

“ Is somebody going to Gross-Frankfurt to inform
those who may show up ? ” I asked. Nobody was.

Then I must go to prevent disaster.’’ They tried
to dissuade me. I resisted. I must take the chance.
When I arrived in the neighbourhood of Gross-Frank¬
furt, throngs of workers were approaching—of course
they did not know of the cancellation. I was glad
I had come. Soon such crowds gathered that I
asked the manager of Gross-Frankfurt to help me. He
did, and with great courtesy. The largest hall had
entrances on two sides.

'' Would you open the corridor doors for those
going in and keep the street entrance closed until I
have talked to those gathered in the hall—and then
open the street entrance to let them out ? ” I asked
the manager. “If we continue that procedure we

143

Toni Sender

can hold as many brief meetings as necessary to
inform ail the tens of thousands who are marching
here.’=

The method worked. The procedure had to be
repeated Uvelve times before I had spoken to all those
who had come. I told them of the latest events and
promised them that the strike would go on until the
army had submitted to our control. The workers
trusted me, and dhdsion within the strike movement
was warded off.

Immediately after the meeting I vanished again.
Naturally I remained in close contact with the strikers
—but I could not attend the committee meetings.
The strike had started Saturday morning. The follow¬
ing Wednesday the committee decided to end the
strike on Thursday—a decision taken because the
army heads had promised to leave the city and with¬
draw the troops. But on Wednesday night nothing
was changed. Cannon were still directed at the banks
and public buildings. The workers were furious at
their committee. Some knew how to find me and
came to ask my advice.

I cannot issue orders personally, but I fully
appreciate your feeling and sympathize with it,” I told
them. You are the strikers, the men who make the
sacrifices, and you have a right to a voice in this matter.
If you feel you cannot end the strike, you must have
an opportunity to express yourselves. I suggest you
hire a hall. Call a meeting of the strikers’ delegates,
I am ready to be the chairman of the meeting and
to ensure its orderly course. But you must do the
talking, and we can then reach a decision. By
such a procedure we mil avoid a fight in our ranks

144

Counter-Revolt: The Kapp Putsch

and may still be able to reverse the committee’s
decision.”

They gratefully agreed. The next morning all
came to the meeting. I was in the chair. After a few
hours of discussion we decided to continue the strike
until the army submitted and actually left the town.
And the strike went on. . . . Our tactics met with
success. We forced the soldiers to leave.

When this was achieved, the strike committee
called a mass meeting of the strike leaders to take a
formal decision to end the strike. The workers
trooped into the hall. A trade-union leader began to
address them. They would not listen to him. Another
one attempted to speak—with the same result. Some
party leaders were no more successful. The meeting
seemed to be out of control. Almost desperate, the
chairman asked me if I would try to control it. Of
course I was ready to try, if they would permit me to
propose the tactics to be followed.

I began to speak and somehow succeeded in making
myself heard and gaining the workers’ attention.
I urged the strikers to return to the shops the next
day and there vote shop by shop on whether to end
the strike. This was unanimously accepted. The
trade-union leaders were thankful. The vote was
taken the following day and work was resumed by the
strikers’ own decision.

The strike against the Kapp Putsch was the first
victorious general pohtical strike in history. It was
a genuine general strike, the people strongly-united,
industrial and white-collar workers standing together
with all state and city officials. The police chiefs who
had haunted me a few weeks before now clasped my

145

Toni Sender

hand in appreciation. It was a demonstration of the
force those groups could represent if they combined
for a common goal. United they could accomplish
great things—without the use of Uolence. Alas, this
solidarity was not repeated in the subsequent history
of the German republic. Even during the Kapp
Putsch, as well as later, the union was more a negative
than a positive one. Factory and white-collar workers,
as well as public officials, were all opposed to the
overthrow of the repubfic by the Kapp Putschists—
but they disagreed on the form of the economic and
social structure of the new state. Only the key groups
of the workers understood that the republic had to
take power away from the Putschists—the Prussian
Junkers and the intriguers of the heavy industries,
and especially the officers’ corps of the army. No
revolution can succeed without revolutionizing the
militaiy. In no country was this more imperative than
in Gemany with its old tradition of the _ army’s
predominance in civil as well as military affairs.

For me, the Kapp Putsch had one humorous after-
math. A few weeks after it was defeated, I was sum¬
moned before a judge to answer an indictment for
assault. At first I did not even understand the mean¬
ing of the German technical word for my “ offence.”
When I was told that I was indicted for having
physically attacked somebody,, I burst into laughter.
But the summons was in my hands and I had to go to
court, ■\^ffien I was brought into the court-room, I
asked the judge to read me the entire text of the
accusation. He complied with my request. While he
was reading, his eyes glanced at me for a moment
and he smiled.. I understood. It was comic—I am

146

Counter-Revolt: The Kapp Putsch

only 5 feet 2 inches in height and here I was accused of
having slapped an army officer in the face. The
assault was alleged to have occurred on the first day of
the Kapp Putschj in our headquarters at the Frank¬
furter Hof.

'' Of course/’ said the judge, '' I understand that it
is not this method of attack you usually use.”

Thank you, your honour. But you will under¬
stand that I should appreciate the army’s knowing that
too. Would you do me the favour of confronting me
with the officer whom I am supposed to have slapped
in the face ? I do not want the story going around after
I am elected to the Reichstag, which I certainly shall
be Avithin a few weeks. I would then have the privilege
of parliamentary immunity. And the atmosphere of
hatred against me in the army would persist. I am
afraid it would then be impossible to have the matter
cleared up. The house probably would not be willing
to lift my immunity.”

The judge understood and acquiesced. After a few
hours an officer entered the room. He was very tall,
a giant almost. The judge’s eyes met mine. We could
scarcely withhold our laughter.

I burst out with the question :

I am Toni Sender ; do you really pretend I
slapped you ? ”

The officer was terribly embarrassed. He looked at
me, his blood mounting to his face.

No, it was not this lady,” he stammered.

I asked the judge to grant me the right to have this
answer pubhshed in the barracks and thus end the
slander for all time. He agreed.

I am still convinced that the officer never was

147

Toni Sender

slapped in the face and that the entire story was in¬
vented to create a hostile atmosphere against me. The
indictment coming shortly before my Reichstag elec¬
tion, the reactionary officers gambled that the incident
would never be cleared up. Thus I would have been
staniped an enemy of the men in uniform.

148

VII

A MEMBER OF THE REICHSTAG IN MY
TWENTIES

The elections to the first Reichstag of the German
republic were strongly influenced by the experience
of the Kapp Putsch. The masses now began to reahze
the necessity for more fundamental changes. The
forces of the past had shown their reactionary, agres-
sive face and had poorly rewarded the forbearance
of the November revolution. Not in all parts of the
nation could the Putsch be defeated without a clash
of arms. In Westphalia the workers were compelled
to use violence against the Putschists. Of course they
were not prepared for it, but they had sufficient
initiative to beat the Putschists to the army arsenals and
to seize the arms of their enemy. Military experience
in the World War together with courage and the
decision not to be fooled again helped them to triumph
over professional soldiers.

When I was asked to go on a lecture tour in Thiir-
ingen, immediately after the Kapp Putsch, I found
the working classes in that state still deeply resentful
of the cruelties committed by the troops and still
more by the so-called Z^itfreiwillige, young students
hired by the army and armed by it for the purpose of
terrorizing the workers and farmers. Most of the cruel

149 L

Toni Sender

murders and barbarous acts were committed by those
hired mercenaries, and they certainly contributed to
revolutionizing the masses. The reports I was given
by eye-witnesses presented a revolting picture indeed.

Soon after my return from Thiiringen the electoral
campaign began. Robert Dissmann and I were run¬
ning mates for the Reichstag on the ticket of the
Independent Social Democratic party. Robert mean¬
while had already left Frankfurt and moved to Stutt¬
gart as president of the Metal Workers Union, an
industrial union. Robert had for years led the fight
to vdn this union from its former conservative leader¬
ship, and it was his persistence and his remarkable
talent for organization that decided the battle. He
understood the necessity of having the political fight
backed by solidly organized trade unions. Under his
leadership the Metal Workers Union reached a mem¬
bership of a million, the highest membership ever
attained by any labour union in the world.

We had a wonderful electoral campaign. With the
party visibly on the ascent and with issues involving
steps to complete the work of the revolution, the in¬
terest of all classes was aroused to a point where
our meetings were crowded, inspired, and inspiring.
The workers began to flock to us. The best types of
our German intellectuals, those who understood the
needs of the time, supported us. The signs were
promising, and we worked in an atmosphere of confi¬
dence and genuine friendship. Biebrich, the town
where my parents lived, was part of my constituency.
Thus my family had an opportunity to vote for me.
How^ever, none of them \vas interested in my election
—they all voted for one or another of my opponents.

150

A Member of the Reichstag in My Twenties

On June 6, -1920, Robert and I became members
of the Reichstag together -with seventy-nine other
members of our party. It was a proud victory. From
the twenty-two members we had in the Constituent
Assembly at Weimar a little more than a year before,
we had climbed to eighty-one members of the first
republican Reichstag. It was a victory' that confirmed
our attitude early in the revolution as opposed to
that of the Majority Socialists, namely, not to rush
the people to the polls before we had had ample
opportunity to lay the foundation for the new republic
and to convince the labouring masses and farmers by
our deeds that their interests lay with the revolution.

Unfortunately, the Majority Socialists had lost
more than we had gained. From more than eleven
million voters in 1919 they had fallen to between five
and six milli on in 1920 with 112 members elected
out of a total of 466. The workers who had left them
and joined us had justly held them responsible for
the Kapp Putsch, with which the army had surprised
the Majority Sociahst Defence Minister, Noske, and
for their failure to fulfil the promise of the revolution.
The middle-class elements that had flocked to them
under the immediate influence of the revolution had
gone back to the nationahst parties, which were also
among the gainers in the election.

My party in this election had rendered me a special
honour : I was put at the head of the national ticket.
Germany had a system of proportional representation
requiring 60,000 votes for every member to be elected
in a constituency. Two neighbouring constituencies
could make an agreement to combine for the purpose
of utilizing the remaining votes above the last 60,000.

Toni Sender

The total remaining votes went to the national tickets
put up by the national executives of the parties. The
objective was to have no votes lost and also to send
those persons into the Reichstag who were needed
there for their special knowledge. These included
persons who in some cases were very able legislators
without being effective campaigners and speakers.
On account of a rather intransigent left wing, our
national executive had met difficulties in setting up
the national ticket. It so happened that my name
was the one on which both groups could agree.
I enjoyed the confidence of both because, although I
was revolutionary and energetic in defending labour’s
rights, I also had sufficient practical business sense
and a long trade union experience which had taught
me to weigh my decisions. To combine boldness and
responsibility always had been my endeavour. It was
quite unusual for a woman, and a young newcomer
in the Reichstag, to head the national ticket. But it
helped to make my way in the Reichstag easier and
resulted in my being charged from the very begin¬
ning with important tasks. I was to remain in the
Reichstag for thirteen years.

In later years I have often been asked, especially in
the United States : “ What did you do to be elected
to the Reichstag ? ” I could only answer, “ Nothing
at all.” I did not ask for it. It was quite natural
that Robert and I should be candidates after our years
of devotion and leadership, and my position was not
disputed. But the office of deputy never seemed to me
something highly desirable. The only thing I wanted
was a chance to do useful work for the community,
for the masses and the nation. Not that I was without

152

A Member of the Reichstag in Mj Twenties

ambition, but the accent was more on the achieve¬
ment than on a position of honour.

Very soon my comrades in the parliamentary^ group
charged me, the youngest member of the house, %\’ith
the task of speaking for the group in the debates on
foreign affairs. It was July of 1920. The German
delegates had returned from Spa, where they had
had a conference with the Alhed nations—the first
one after the war in which the heads of the German
government met members of the English and French
cabinets. The points on the agenda besides the
question of reparations, which could not y-et be
settled, were the problems of disarmament and the
German delivery of coal to the Allies. The task
assigned to me was to engage in polemics against the
speakers of the Right.

tc ^2*^ you very nervous, Toni ? Luise Zietz, mem¬
ber of the party executive and of the Reichstag, came

to ask me. . . i-

“ Not yet,” I answered. “ I am stili waiting for

it to come.”

But the nervousness did not come. Life had already
hardened me. When I started my attack, I imme¬
diately met with strong resistance. There were bitter
interruptions from the Right. This only stimulated
me to further attacks. I declared that sabre-rattling
could only hurt German interests by reinforcing_ the
impression in the Allied nations that the old spirit of
Potsdam was not yet dead, that German imperialism
was still alive.

“ My friends and I are for disarmament—but not
for the same reason as the AUies,” I said. By Ger¬
man disarmament we want to advance the fight of

153

Toni Sender

our friends abroad to accomplish the same goal in
their countries^’

Alas—it was a hope never realized. Republican
Germany did disarm, but the Allied nations never
kept their promise to follow suit. In this speech I
expressed apprehension that the League of Nations
might have the same fate as the famous fourteen points
of President Wilson. And I justified this apprehension
by showng that when General Degoutte occupied the
German cities of Frankfurt and Darmstadt in violation
of the Versailles Treaty, the League of Nations took
no action.

Finally I strongly attacked Hugo Stinnes, the power¬
ful German industrialist and master of trusts, whose
attitude as a German representative at the Spa con¬
ference could not have failed to have an unfavourable
effect. And I asked why he was not in the house
during this debate, as was his duty as a member of
the Reichstag ; and why he preferred to attend to his
private affairs, negotiating with foreign business men
at the Hotel Kaiserhof in Berlin. Throughout my
speech the Nationalists interrupted me, and I had a
hard fight with them. But I enjoyed it. I appre-
, dated the staunch support given me by the entire
Left, led by the veteran parliamentarian and old
revolutionary, Georg Ledebour, one of the most
forceful speakers of the house.

This maiden speech had an aftermath that was
rather embarrassing for me. One member of the
Catholic parliamentary^ groups, Dr. H., wrote an
article entitled Toni Sender which gave a detailed
description of my first appearance before the house.
It was written in a very friendly‘tone and was pub-

154

A Member of the Reichstag in My Twenties

lished in almost the entire Catholic press of Germany.

A journalist member of my own parliamentary group
wrote a similar article in which he voiced exaggerated
enthusiasm. Naturally, these writings became the
object of gossip in the house, and gave rise to many
troublesome jokes. I would have preferred to vanish
until it was all forgotten.

What an eventful period of my life was this year
1920 ! With the adoption of the bill on the shop
stewards a completely new task w^as conferred upon
me. We thought the bill unsatisfactory, since it did
not fulfil the promises made to the revolutionary
masses, but we recognized that it was a beginning.
It placed a totally new responsibility upon the active
union men in factories and mines. The shop stewards
were made not only the trustees of their fellow workers
but also the guardians of the common good. They
had the duty of opposing measures proposed by the
executives of industry when these measures were felt
to be inimical to the general welfare of the nation.
It was the duty of the employer or his representative
to report periodically to the shop stewards on the
situation of the enterprise and of the trade, to present
and explain to them the balance and the profit and
loss account. One or two representatives of the shop
council were delegated to sit on the board of directors
of each corporation.

We knew that most of the workers were unprepared
for this new responsibility. But we were convinced
that there was enough intelligence among the labour¬
ing classes and that appropriate training would develop
capacities that might surprise those employers who
considered the law harmless because of the workers’

155

Toni Sender

ignorance. Robert Dissmann asked me if I was
ready to become editor of a Shop Councils^ Magazine
for the metal trades which the Metal Workers Union
had decided to publish. I would have to write one
or two articles for ever)' issue, recruit the contributors,
keep in contact with the shop councils, and explain
and discuss all legislation concerning the councils—
economic, financial, and social. It would mean hard
work, especially in the beginning when all had to be
improvised, but the temptation was too great to be
withstood. An effort had to be made to show that
the workers meant business when they demanded
socialization ; to prove that they were able to acquire
the knowledge necessary to understand business and
shop management and, still more, that they could
develop new concepts w^hich would lay the basis for
a new social order. The pause in the revolution had
to be used to educate the men -who would accomplish
the revolutionary task in the economic field. My
experience in the metal trust, my studies of economics,
and my knowledge of the legislative machinery would
be helpful, Robert and his colleagues of the Metal
Workers Union thought.

Through the entire period of thirteen years -during
which I worked for the magazine I met with most
loyal co-operation from the board as well as ' from
the shop councils. A lasting comradeship developed,
based on mutual confidence. Wherever I had to lec¬
ture, in any city or town of Germany, my steel worker
friends and especially members of the shop councils
would be present. Very often we would meet after
the lecture to discuss my recent articles in the maga¬
zine or problems they had to deal with in their shops

156

A Member of the Reichstag in My Twenties

or unions. This friendship made my life fuller, gave
it more meaning. I know that all our common study
and experience cannot have been in vain. Of course,
accounts in life are not rendered exactly as in busi¬
ness. Often you cannot strike the balance yourself—
life in its time, perhaps after your time, wil do it. I
now have steel and metal worker friends all over the
world—we remain a brotherhood bound to each
other by a common struggle and common ideas.
When in 1935 I went to Cleveland, Ohio, for a lecture,
how great was my surprise to have as my chairman
an old friend, Gustav Dabringhaus, who had been
employed at the Krupp factory in Essen and who had
since become a prosperous American citizen. He
introduced me to the gathering with the following
story :

“ It was in the spring of 1920. The political weaves
were high in the Ruhr district. The Metal Workers
Union had increased its membership in Essen from
5,000 in 1918 to 35,000. Many young, wild, and
inexperienced elements were among them. The Inde¬
pendent Socialists dominated the union’s board. All
of a sudden they found guns somewhere in the
Krupp factory. The workers promptly smashed them
under the steam hammers. Nevertheless, the rumour
of a planned counter-revolution spread. The shop
chairman decided on a protest strike. The brothers
of the extreme Left wanted to push the protest strike
into a political strike. In the beginning only 25 per
cent, of all workers participated in it.

“ The government sent troops to Essen. For the
first time we saw Noske guards. More and more
workers broke away from the strike. The local board

157

Toni Sender

of the union wanted to terminate it in some way.
But the shop chairmen as a body did not want to give
up, and it was decided that a membership meeting
should make a decision. The masses of the strikers
gathered in the North Park Hall, Altenessen. More
than 2,000 men, mostly steel workers, filled the hall,
expecting as main speaker a member of the national
board of the union. The extreme leftists went around
warning : ** Don’t let them fool you !

'' Suddenly a patrol with steel helmets and guns
penetrated the hail. A row developed, some cowards
jumped out of the open Mndows. The lieutenant
gave a warning signal, and Wilhelm Steinhauer as
chairman opened the meeting. He declared that it was
ridiculous to be afraid of the soldiers at a moment
when they were prepared to discuss a continuation
of the strike. Then to this restless assembly, and to
the great surprise of all, he introduced a delicate
young woman who appeared all the more incon¬
gruous as she stood next to the tall Wilhelm. The
extremists smiled furtively. The steel workers sat
down and looked disconcertedly into their glasses of
beer. What can this young person have to tell us ?—
and, besides, we shall scarcely be able to hear her.
But soon calm was established.

“ Toni Sender appeared from behind the much too
big speakers’ table and stood next to it, her hands on
her hips. She spoke clearly and penetratingly of
political actions, of economic struggles, and of eco¬
nomic strikes with direct demands, strikes which some¬
times may last long. But the political strike in most
cases is spontaneous, she said. It could last only a
limited time, and that was the only way to develop

158

A Member of the Reichstag in Mj Twenties

it into mass action. Was there any chance to develop
the present strike into a mass action? A man who
interrupted her was silenced with the remark that
one should not see the world revolution dn every
bursting bubble. The restless mass of steel workers
had become silent and attentive. They followed the
clear, logical conclusions and trusted this brave little
woman. By an overwhelming majority they voted to
end the political strike before it was entirely lost.''

Thus ran the account of my friend in Cleveland.
I had forgotten the incident and at first listened to
his stor}^ as if it did not concern me.

My collaboration with the metal and steel workers
became closer and more intimate. I took part also in
their activities in the- international field. I accom¬
panied the union’s delegation to the international
metal workers convention in Copenhagen as an in¬
terpreter, but on my own account, at the same time
reporting the congress for the German labour press.
It was an interesting task because I was permitted to
go beyond the interpreter’s duty and to help to bring
the different national delegations to a better under¬
standing. It was but a short time after the war and
misunderstandings had not yet been entirely removed,
especially between the Germans and the French and
Belgians. The fact, however, that on the German
side there were a number of anti-war men and that
the French delegation included A. Merrheim, who had
been one of the most courageous opponents of the
World War, made the approach much easier. Merr¬
heim was one of those few Frenchmen who dared to
attend one of the internationa;! anti-war conferences
in Switzerland during the war ; his was a superior

159

Toni Sender

character and an unusually independent mind. He
could be stubborn if necessary, but his talent and
broad-mindedness certainly contributed to rebuilding
the “ Iron International —the International Metal
Workers Federation—on a more solid and effective
basis. I made new ties of friendship also with the
other foreign delegates, especially those of Britain,
Belgium, and Czechoslovakia. They were ties which
proved to be of lasting value.

The International of the metal workers became
part of my homeland. I attended most of their subse¬
quent conventions - and became one of their old
guard,’' though I had not much of a past as a metal
worker ” to legitimize me. While in Copenhagen I
was, of course, expected to spend my leisure time
with my German colleagues. The Germans, however,
were an awfully serious group, almost gloomy. I felt
that our work would benefit by some relaxation. So
I went to the Austrian delegation and asked them to
join us. How different these Austrians were ! Gay
and cheerful, they took things more easily. To in¬
augurate our alliance I asked all the delegates, young
and old, to come with me to the Tivoli Garden and
to be good sports—to go to all foolish places from

Russian mountains ” to the Tottering Dancing.
They promised. The experiment proved a great
success. For a few hours we forgot our trouble,
became silly, and buried our animosities.

Too soon, seriousness claimed us again. With the
German delegation, I was boarding the steamer to
return home when the French delegate came to tell
me that he had just received a very important docu¬
ment, Moscow’s twenty-one conditions, the stipula-

i6o

A Member of the Reichstag in Mj Twenties

tions of the Third International for parties washing
to affiliate. Merrheim knew I was interested in and
had worked for the unification of world labour on a
decent basis acceptable to all He as well as I had
striven for a union of the western with the eastern
workers. The Independent Social Democratic party
had sent delegates to Moscow to discuss this problem
with, the Russian leaders. They were received in Mos¬
cow like subordinates. The Russians seemed to feel
themselves the dictators not only of Russia but " of
world labour as well. Unity was possible only if we
submitted to the twenty-one conditions which Merr¬
heim had just received and shown to me. I grasped
them with great excitement and read them breath¬
lessly. What impossible presumption ! My reaction
was immediate. Unacceptable ! I always under¬
stood the struggle of labour as a fight for freedom, not
as the submission of zealots to some superior com¬
mand, a central body far in the East, in Moscow,
directing the destinies of the western, perhaps of the
entire world labour movement.

Immediately upon my arrival in Germany, I told
Merrheim, '' I shall sit down and write a pamphlet
opposing most energetically this unworthy challenge.’’
Robert Dissmann and Merrheim, both genuine
Socialists, fully approved of my attitude. I agreed with
Robert’s suggestion »that I go to the Harz Mountains
for a few days to be undisturbed in my wiring. Only
Robert was to know my whereabouts.

Robert knew a place, isolated in the woods, named
Romkerhalle. There I went. The plain mountain
house stood in front of a waterfall. At the back the
mountain creek roared day and night. The Harz

i6i

Toni Sender

Mountains are like a huge.temple with high straight
fir trees as columns,. Because of the time of the year
I was the only guest in the house^ and I seldom met a
human being on my short climbing excursions. I had
quiet hours to think over the problems involved in
the Moscow document and to make up my mind.
These serious reflections led me to condemn even
more severely the challenge of Moscow. It could lead
only to loss of dignity and independence for our
movement. It would not even be the dictatorship of
the working classes but rather the dictatorship over
them of a clique of bureaucrats. This was the idea I
expressed in the title of my booklet. Once the idea
was clearly conceived, I sat down and wrote without
looking up.

But my expectation of being alone 'for a few days
was an illusion. I had not finished my writing when,
unexpectedly, a \dsitor was announced. It was a dele¬
gate from Braunschweig who had learned my address
from Robert. The movement in that state was hard
pressed by the adherents of Moscow. Those opposed
to this trend had sent him to see Robert in Stuttgart
and asked him to locate me. I had not yet had a
rest and needed it badly. But my comrade insisted
so strongly, arguing that it was my duty to help them
save the organization, that I consented to go with
him at once.

It was a heated and very close fight—but I won
the battle there for our friends. And from that day
on I had to go from state to state to oppose speakers
who wanted to split our party and lead it into the
Communist ranks and to submission to the Moscow
central committee. It was a necessary, although an

162

^4 Member of the Reichstag in My Twenties

unsatisfactory, fight. Our opponents did not speak
on the issue. They glorified the Russian revolution
—which everybody was ready to protect—and did
their best to slide away from the conditions that the
Russians had fixed for the privilege of combining all
labour forces with theirs. I was successful in many
places,.once having to speak for three and a half hours
to convince a reluctant majority in a state convention.
It was a grand battle—a fight for freedom of thought
and decision in the labour movement and in society,
and I have never regretted having led it in Germany.

But it was the saddest time in my life. We used
all our strength to fight each other in the labour
movement while neglecting the much more neces¬
sary common struggle against the growing influence
of the dark forces of the. past and the beginnings of a
more modern and a more sinister reaction. The days
of the Haile convention of the Independent Social
Democrats of October, 1920, still seem to me like a
nightmare. ' We knew the Moscow followers had the
majority. Most of them were as though in a state of
intoxication, happy and unreasoning. Arguing with
them was therefore without avail. They had brought
their followers' in the city of Halle, where they were
in the majority, to the balconies. Insults flew dowm
on us from the very first day.

Then came the sensation of the convention. Gri¬
gory! Zinoviev, the secretary of the Third Interna¬
tional, came in person to make certain that the most
promising revolutionary party of Germany would be
disrupted. Zinoviev arrived like an operatic prima
donna. Well-nourished and vain, he entered the hall
triumphantly followed by an entourage of young ad-

163

Toni Sender

mirers. But at the same time, almost unnoticed by
the majority, another Russian entered the hall, a
well-known and deserving veteran of the Russian and
international labour movement whom I had met before
in Paris. It was Martov, the theoretician of the
Russian Social Democrats, who had spent years in
czarist jails and who had suffered the same fate at the
hands of the Bolsheviks during the past years for his
stand in favour of social democracy. Finally he had
been exiled from his homeland. He was sick, a
shadow of a man, near death from tuberculosis con¬
tracted in jail.

A glance at these two men was enlightening. Here
the representative of the then ruling caste, happy,
radiant, well fed—there the one who personified the
oppressed, weak and sick, but with a fine spiritual
face indicative of his refusal to surrender his faith.
For although Martov and his party had made mis¬
takes, there was no reason whatsoever to doubt their
honest revolutionary spirit.

Grigoryi Zinoviev started to speak and went on for
four hours. He declaimed in a somewhat broken Ger¬
man which only heightened the effect of his talk. A
demagogue of high calibre, he seemed to judge the
majority of his audience well. He spoke such primi¬
tive language that at one moment I could not con¬
tain myself any longer and shouted at him : “We are
not muzhiks.’' He talked of the Russian revolution
and its enemies but not of the twenty-one conditions
for affiliation to the Third International.

Someone had to reply. We selected Dr. Rudolf
Hilferding, chief editor of our Berlin newspaper,
Freiheit^ and famed as a theoretician. Usually he is not

164

A Member of the Reichstag in My Twenties

a good speaker, for he has little of the orator about
him. But if he is provoked and convinced of the im¬
portance of the issue, he can rise to great inteOectuai
heights and make a deep impression on thinking
people. However, the majority was not of that type,
at least not during this period, and Hilferding could
not influence the decision to be taken. But his three-
hour speech in Halle remains an important historical
document. Hilferding attacked the problem which
Zinoviev had ignored. He emphasized that the Ger¬
man labouring classes must achieve their liberation for
themselves and that they could not assign their think¬
ing to any outside body. He charged that it was not
a labour policy that was being followed in Germany
but a policy of factional interests. The only lesson to
be learned from that experience, therefore, was no
further split ! One must stop gutter competition in
radicalism. Zinoviev had called the Amsterdam trade
union international a '' yellow ’I international, but he
had also expressed thanks for the boycott on the ship¬
ping of war material to the enemies of Soviet Russia.
He thus expressed his thanks to the same men whom
he insulted. For he called these men '' more dangerous
than the White Guards '' murderers of the prole¬
tariat showing in so doing an appalling lack of
moral feeling.

Hilferding in opposing terrorism gave the following
definition : the use of violence by a government for
the purpose of frightening persons who supposedly
could commit an offence but have not yet committed
it; we call terror the arrest of brothers, sisters, mothers,
and children, all this ugly policy of hostages, and we
oppose especially the terrorism used to suppress every

165 M

Toni Sender

free expression of opinion among the working classes.
We are opposed to declaring invalid elections whose
result does not please the government.’^ Hilferding
predicted that the use of terrorism would make the
party a sect and lead to the apathy of the masses, and
to the spread of official corruption in the state.

Did Zinoffiev hear again the words of this prophecy
as he stood before the firing squad only sixteen years
later ? And did he then feel the power of the motto
mth which Schopenhauer, the German pliilosopher,
had sent out his work and which had been recalled to
the convention : Magna vis veritatis et praevalebit (Great
is the power of truth and it will prevail).

The resolution that opposed affiliation to the Third
International through submission to the twenty-one
conditions declared it would mean abandonment of
the party’s independence, demolition of the Amsterdam
trade union international, the expulsion of respected
comrades, the splitting of the party and paralysis of
its capacity for action. It was signed by Ledebour,
Rosenfeld, myself, and others.

When, after the vote was taken and the irrational
had triumphed, I left the Halle convention hall
with my friends to gather together what was left of
a very promising young party, I felt deeply the great
catastrophe that had occurred. The splitting and
weakening of the only realistic and independent
revolutionary party in Germany could lead only to
the encouragement of reaction. The rule of the
irrational always threatens disaster. What did it
matter that after a short time those who had led in
the surrender to Moscow’s dictates became sober and
left the Communist party ? The damage was done !

i66

A Member of the Reichstag in My Twenties

I knew a new chapter in the history of German labour
had begun. The split was worse than a defeat.

However, there was no time for lamentations—the
fight had to go on. A new threat appeared, the
splitting of the trade union International by breaking
away some of the national trade unions and getting
them to join the Moscow Red Trade Union Interna¬
tional. I had collaborated with the so-caUed “ Amster¬
dam International,” had attended its first post-war
convention in London, had helped as an interpreter
when it was rebuilt, after its destruction by the war,
on soHder foundations. It had efficient leaders in Edo
Fimmen and Jan Oudegeest, men whose firiendship
and character I appreciated. Should the work of
destruction go on ? The national board of the Metal
Workers Union sent me to the most crucial districts
to lead the fight to keep the economic organizations
of labour intact despite the disruption on the poHticai
front. It was a really hard job. One had to deal
with fanatics and in some places with toughs, especially
in the harbours on the coast where I was sent to speak.
In this fight I did not suffer a single defeat—except
to my health. Many meetings were held in unventi¬
lated places, crowded by thousands and filled with
thick clouds of smoke. Usually I would have to speak
and argue into the early morning hours. But in the
end Amsterdam won over Moscow in the German
metal and steel workers’ unions.

While this fighting had to be carried on, it became
necessary to rebuild the Independent Social Demo¬
cratic party, which had been seriously disrupted by
the Moscow split. Efficient and successful work in
the Frankfurt City Council became more important

167

Toni Sender

than ever, and at the same time I was expected to do
my full duty in the Reichstag and on its committees.
I had been elected a member of the committee on
foreign affairs—of which I was to remain a member
until 1933—and of the committees on economics and
on social legislation. During this difficult period of
readjustment the work'was intense, particularly for a
young person who was not inclined to take things easy.
My physician was also a member of the Franldurt
City Council, although not of my political group.
He observed me growing thinner with every month
and warned me to drop my work for a few weeks.
Undernourishment in the last years of the war, over¬
work during the revolution, lack of sleep, and an
abundance of worry all combined to undermine my
health. But this period seemed so decisive for the
German republic that I did not want to stop working
—until I broke down after a meeting in my constitu¬
ency, apparently with an inflammation of the nerves.
My friends, among them my physician, were greatly
disturbed. I became weaker and weaker, was sent
to a hospital and then to a sanatorium. It did not
help much.

When the formation of the so-called Vienna Inter¬
national (a Socialist and labour international opposed
to Moscow dictatorship as well as to opportunist
reformism) was decided on, I was made a delegate to
its founding convention. I gave up hospital and
sanatorium and travelled to Vienna. Unity of the
labouring masses, nationally as well as internationally,'
seemed to me the highest goal. The International
Working Union of Socialist Parties, as the Vienna'
International was called, made no pretension to being

168

A Member of the Reichstag in My Twenties

considered the International. It was aware that no
real and effective International existed as long as
division continued between the second and third
Internationals and while some important parties
remained unaffiliated with either of them.

Among the parties assembled in Vienna besides
the German Independent Socialists were the French
Socialists, the then still influential British Independent
Labour Party, and the strong Austrian and Swiss
Socialist parties. Otto Bauer, the Austrian leader,
was from the beginning the most influential intellectual
leader of the Vienna union. For a short time Minister
of Foreign Affairs of the Austrian republic, Bauer had
led his party into opposition to the government. He
was loved by the masses of Austrian workers and hated
by the Catholic leaders, especially by the Chancellor,
Monseigneur Ignaz Seipel. Bauer w^as of superior
intelligence, sarcastic and biting in discussion, a scholar
in social and economic sciences, and an artist in
formulating his ideas in speeches and writings. We
became close friends and remained in touch with each
other until his death in 1938, after his bitter experience
of forced emigration to Czechoslovakia and later to
France.

I appreciated Bauer’s advice, but I often meditated
on the merit of assigning to scholars the tasks of states¬
men, a consideration that occurred to me also ^ in
connection with Dr. Rudolf Hilferding, the theoretician
of the German movement and later twice Minister of
Finance for short periods. Scholars seldom are men
of quick, realistic, and shrewd action, such as is
needed in moments of emergency. And the central
European nations in the first post-war period seldom

169

Toni Sender

left the stage of emergency. But government _ needs
such men as advisers and experts. As such we could
not dispense wth them.

We decided in Vienna to set up the International
Working Union for the purpose of labouring for inter¬
national unity on a programme broad enough to form
a basis of discussion. Alas—the goal has not been
reached even at the present day. Negotiations with
Moscow’s representatives were begun twice, and I
took part in one of them—but they were to no avail.
The Third International was not prepared to acknow¬
ledge the independence and freedom of the national
organizations. As a reaction to this attitude, other
parties were driven to a bitter feeling toward the
Russians, leading almost to implacable enmity.

VIII

ENFORCED RETREAT

After the work in Vienna was done, I suffered a
new breakdown in 1921. Tuberculosis of the lungs
was the physician^s diagnosis. Again I was forced
into hospital and sanatorium—first in Austria, later
in Germany. Instead of the hoped-for improvement,
I grew worse. My physician friend in Frankfurt
insisted that I must go to Davos in Switzerland, to be
healed in that sheltered village high in the mountains
where the sun’s rays reflected from the glaciers have
a miraculous curative effect.

I can’t afford to do it,” I told Dr. N. Although
my' income in Germany is high, the depreciated
German currency amounts to little when exchanged
for the Swiss franc. Let me go on with my work
and use up all my strength until it is all over.”

I ■ must be quite frank with you,” he replied.

Possibly you would not die soon. You might have
to go through a long period of sickness, finally becoming
dependent on others.”

That was the last alternative I would accept. I
talked the matter over with Robert. He promised
that while in Switzerland I could continue my editorial
work for the Shop Councils^ Mugazii^o^ and that he
would provide me with all books, documents, and

171

i om oenaer

materials needed to keep me informed. I never
questioned for a moment the fact that I had to go
on working while tiying to recover. On my trip to
Davos I stopped with Robert in Lucerne to assist
the Metal Workers International, once more in con¬
vention. I served as an interpreter despite my illness,
which now was accompanied by fever. This was my
last contact with the labour movement before banish¬
ment to the solitude of the Swiss mountains for
approximately a year.

My physician in Davos, Dr, F. Bauer, who soon
became an understanding friend, found me seriously
threatened by the sickness. He ordered a complete
rest, in bed in the open air. A sure instinct advised
me not to go to one of the huge sanatoriums, those
“ Magic Mountains '' where you acquire too friendly
a relationship with your ailment and become captivated
by an atmosphere of idleness hidden behind a veil of
inspiring conversation and philosophizing. I saw such
cases later, young men and women taken away from
active life before they had established close ties with
it, unable to conceive the idea that eventually they
would have to go back to workaday activity where
they would no longer be the objects of special care
and attention. Subconsciously, they came to fear the
curing of their malady—a cure which might render
them no longer more interesting than an average
person. They came to fear becoming again an
anonymous person in the crowd.

With the help of Socialist friends in Switzerland I
found a room with a private veranda in a small pension,
where I would be undisturbed. My physician, order¬
ing a very strict cure, understood that I had to work

172

Enforced Retreat

in bed for two reasons. First of all, to keep in close
contact with the life and problems of my comrades,
and, also, to earn the cost of my cure. Luckily enough
I was by then known abroad and could write articles
for foreign magazines, many of them for Swiss publica¬
tions. Together with my work for the German
newspapers and periodicals I managed to get along.

The idea of being excluded from active life for an
unlimited period of time at first'seemed appalling to
me. How grateful did I soon become ! After such
an extremely tense life as I had led in the immediate
past, it was good and even necessary to have an
opportunity for meditation and a calm survey of the
past. Most of the time I was alone with my books
and my documents. My bed stood on the veranda,
the view open to the snow-crowmed mountains glittering
in the strong rays of a shining sun. The scmtry w^as
grandiose. The quiet was emphasized by the har¬
monious sound of the cowbells on the Alpine pastures
and by the plodding of horses when snow^, several feet
high, had covered all the roads.

From time to time Mo or Hanna would come to
see me. Both, former patients at Davos, were now
established citizens of the place. Mo, a very able
lawyer, a tall, handsome chap looking like Hercules,
had been sick for years and had done most of his study¬
ing in bed. He was a well-educated Socialist, eapr
to exchange ideas and experiences. Hanna, his wife,
had gone through a similar period of suffering and
become a highly refined person. She w^as stiU of
delicate appearance but was courageous and had a
fine sense of humour. Comradeship between us
developed into a warm friendship. They w^ere natur-

Toni Sender

ally deeply interested in the German revolution and'
would inquire about the reasons for its having come
to a standstill.

I tried to answer them.

“ Until now my political activity has been inspired
by the assumption that Germany was still in a revolu¬
tionary phase and that our tactics therefore had to
push in the direction of great fundamental change.
But we had to deal with a people not accustomed to
democracy or the use of liberty, with a nation which
had become free only after the World War. Our
people had no abundance of spontaneity. The middle
classes to a large extent disliked political activity.
They resented being stirred up. Many so-called
intellectuals declared with pride that they were not
at all interested in, and were therefore ignorant of,
politics. The desire for rest, politically, was partly
bom out of the exhaustion, the suffering, and the
stan^ation of the war years. Lack of spontaneity as
a trait in the German character, a great fatigue from
the exhaustion of the great struggle, and no tradition
of direct responsibility in government were unfertile
soil for a successful revolution.

The Allied nations gave the nation no fair chance
to make the young republic a success. The national
self-respect was continuously humiliated. Germany
was treated as a defendant. The nonpolitical-minded
stratum of German society interpreted this treatment
as a sign that the Weimar democracy was an inade¬
quate system, and they compared it with the past—
the proud empire with the Kaiser at the head. An
atmosphere of dissatisfaction and resentment could
not fail to develop.

m

Enforced Retreat

What will come will depend upon, our capacity
to learn from the past. Our task is by no means
hopeless—^if the German working masses are not
revolutionary, they are people with the most marvellous
spirit of sacrifice. WTiat they need are bold and clear¬
sighted leaders. Leadership there must be in any
organized society. And democracy needs men and
women with great vision, boldness, character, and
courage. Where an autocracy uses force, democracy
is bound to use superior intelligence. If we w^ant to
win for the cause of democracy and social and economic
justice, we must create unity. Unity, and also agree¬
ment on some major changes and the tactics to be
used for their achievement. We must ban the narrow'-
mindedness and petty quarrelling in which some
Germans excel. And we must show that we are
without personal ambition but full of ambition for
the creation of a better world. Do you not agree
with us that such a policy must meet with under¬
standing abroad and wdn us the support of the labour¬
ing classes of the world to give to a free Germany
her proper place in the community of nations ? ”

Meanwhile, as I spoke, it had become late in the
evening. When Mo left me, the moon stood bright
in a wide, dark sky, wrapping the majestic mountains
with their glaciers in a shining silver sheet—a sight
of sublimity and calm, of a majestic, almost immutable,
cosmic world, contrasting with the restlessness and
insecurity of the world human beings have made.

Though a year had passed since I had dropped out
of active life, I continued my close contacts with people
and events. Only rarely would one or another fellow
sufferer come to see me. They were persons who had

W5

Toni Sender

been “ stud>'ing ” at Davos “ university ” for a number
of years. They told me how impossible it was for
them to return to hfe do%vn below. People there
would not understand them. Some of them had come
to Davos at a very early age, had there met interesting
personalities. They had had plenty of time to discuss
and talk and to build up the impression that they led
an unusually interesting life. How could they ever
become reconciled again to a tri\ial, everyday life in
a small town or even in a city as an ordinary person ?
It did not occur to them that all this exciting talk
and debating on a mountain-top was anything but real
life. I tried to make them understand that, to help
them as best I could—but I doubt whether I was in
any way successful. Yet to observe them was a decided
warning, although the danger, for me, was not a very
grave one.

“ Would you be ready to become editor-in-chief of
the Freiheit ? ” was the question asked of me one day
in a letter from Wilhelm Dittmann, a member of our
party’s central committee. I was most surprised.
The Freiheit was the central newspaper of the Inde¬
pendent Social Democratic party. It had been edited
since its foundation by Dr. Rudolf Hilferding. Robert
had already written to me that the Berlin membership,
as well as a number of leading people in the party, had
become dissatisfied with the paper’s attitude, con¬
sidering it too refornaistic. They had held several
conferences of the central bodies of the party and as a
result of these, Dittmann said, they had decided to
offer me the editorship.

It assuredly was a great honour for a young woman
and naturally a temptation. But I resisted. It was

176

Enforced Retreat

never that kind of ambition that dictated my decisions.
Certainly I love to see worth while things done and
to share in the doing. Who receives the credit for
the accomplishment, however, has not much import¬
ance. I considered the implications of the offer and
decided that under the circumstances I should not
accept it. I was not yet cured. Being of an inde¬
pendent mind, I knew there would arise issues on
which my attitude might be antagonistic to that of
other party leaders. Would I be physically strong
enough to fight things through ? Furthermore, I had
never been a factional adherent and did not want to
become one. Better, therefore, not to be blinded by
honour and to make a clear decision. No—I do not
want to become the editor !

Robert, with whom I had discussed my reasons,
and who would have liked to see me at the head of
the paper, finally agreed with me. He even took two
days in the midst of all his terrific work to come to
see me in Davos. Here, as everywhere he went, his
very kind, humorous Rhenish way won him the hearts
of all those he met. Alas—his visit was too short and
passed too quickly for us to discuss all those problems
that had preoccupied me in the months of my solitude.
But I was so glad I could be useful to my friend, even
during my illness, by making some studies for him and
for the movement, thus helping him to draft motions
and courses of action.

Yet I was impatient to go back to the lowlands.
Dr. Bauer, my physician and friend, was understanding.
Of course, I wanted to regain my health, knowing
what strain the normal activity of those restless days
would again put on everyone. The will to recover

177

Toni Sender

had helped to accelerate my improvement. Towards
the spring of 1922 my doctor declared he would permit
me to leave for the Tessin and after a short stay there
to go on and tr^' normal life again.

Have you ever been for a ver>^ long time in a region
where your eye falls perpetually on blank white
where the roadsj the roofs of the housesj the mountains,
all that you can see is as if wrapped in a white winding
sheet of snow? Hedges and fences vanish—^it is
almost as if the borders of private property have dis¬
appeared. At first you enjoy it immensely—it is
something so imusual. How tired of it I had become,
I discovered only when, from the train which brought
me down to the valley, I suddenly saw the first piece of
green meadow. It seemed almost a miracle. So
deeply green, so cheerful, so expressive. It was only
this unforgettable joy that made me realize how for
months I had been hungering for some colour other
than the eternal white.

Erich and Nettie, very dear friends, awaited me
in the Tessin and made my transition to the world
of the healthy as pleasant as possible. From their
pretty little home at the top of the hill in Orselina
I had an enchanting view of the Lago Maggiore. AU
around us the most colourful flowers sprouted in the
blessed spring days. I had to learn to walk again,
but soon I was able to take long stroUs about the
hills and along the lake -with their lavish and changing
colours. Erich, a capable physician, cared for me
well and permitted me to go on a trip through Italy.
In IVClan I met Robert. Both of us were to go to the
Rome convention of the International Federation of
Trade Unions. In the short time that was left before

178

Enforced Retreat

the conventions opened we enjoyed the beauty of the
sunny country and its ancient art and architecture.
We went as far as Naples, Capri, and Pompeii, and
our imagination wandered back to those days when
a privileged caste lived there in the midst of the most
exquisite beauty of nature and the most refined works
of art—until an angry god, hurling burning lava from
Vesuvius, made a cruel end to all and buried what
had been almost paradise.

Fate was not quite so cruel to us, but already we
could hear in Rome the distant rumble of another
thunder—signs of the approaching pestilence of fascism.
The Rome trade union convention was to be the last
free congress held in Italy. I was asked by Edo
Fimmen, one of the Internationars two secretaries, to
act as an interpreter in French, English, and German,
as I had done at previous conventions. I could not
refuse Edo—it was a pleasure to work with him. As
long as he was the InternationaFs secretary he gave
the movement colour and vivacity. He is a broad-
shouldered giant, looks like a viking, and has some¬
thing of the character of those bold navigators. Master
of many languages, he was a revolutionary as well as
an organizer, rare qualities that fitted him for his
, office. But he also had a slight touch of the adventurer
—^wMch later was to create difficulties for him. (When
I saw him again in 1938, in the United States, I realized
that the years had taken away from him, this latter
trait, but he has remained a ffiesh, unceremonious
fellow wholly devoted to the labour movement.)

• Fimmen showed in the Rome convention the same
driving force he had displayed in London more than
two years before. The effects of the World War were

■ 179

Toni Sender

still very strongly felt at this time. Everyone knew
what a repetition of such a catastrophe would mean
for the working classes. On the other hand, the labour
movement had become too strong to permit itself to
adopt resolutions it would not be able to carry through.
It was a serious, sometimes heated debate that preceded
adoption of a declaration that the international labour
movement would call a general strike if need be to
prevent another world war.

In London in 1920 the Italian delegates had been
impatient and more revolutionary than those of any
other country. The situation had changed somewhat
by the spring of 1922, shortly before Mussolini’s black¬
shirt march on Rome. As usual, the convention was
also to offer its delegates some recreation. The
Italian comrades, therefore, had prepared an excursion
to the famous Tivoli. When the delegates gathered
to start on the trip, they were compelled to wait for
a rather long time. “ What is the cause of the delay ? ”
we asked. For some time w'e could not get an answer.
Finally they told us.

“ We do not yet know if we can go to Tivoli. Last
night there were riots between the Fascists and the
workers. One Fascist has been killed. There is still
some excitement and we do not know whether we
can let you go there.”

Again we had to wait. Finally word came that we
would go not to Tivoli but to another place instead.
I felt disappointed by the decision. Once it had been
decided to go to Tivoli, the delegates of a labour con¬
vention should not have been afraid to go, notwith¬
standing possible incidents. We should not have
given the impression of being scared. But it did not

180

Enforced Retreat

help—we were not to go to Tivoli. Was it an omen ?
The Tivoli incident gave me food for thought, but
when I left Rome I did not foresee that things would
change so quickly, that this was to be our last visit
to a democratic Italy for a long time.

IX

RETURN TO THE STRUGGLE

During my stay in Davos I had exchanged ideas
with Robert many times on the issue of industrial
unionism. The Metal Workers Union stood for it,
not only because it was itself an industrial union
and the largest in the world, but also because it was
composed of extremely progressive elements. We
were striving for industrial unionism not only because
that form of organization made it easier to organize
the modern mass-production industries, but also
because we saw new tasks given to labour for which
they had to create the necessary tools. How could
the” workers participate in the administration of an
industry' without learning to deal not only with
problems of their trade but also with those of the
entire industry? They must broaden their interests
and their knowledge. They must learn to understand
the general economic needs, what was wrong with
existing methods of management, and how to organize
them for the welfare of the people of the nation.
How could we time and again demand sociahzation
of the key industries without preparing the instru¬
ments for the workers’ part in its realization ? In
this respect, industrial unionism, as we saw the need
of it in Germany in 1922, differed from the aims of

182

Return to the Struggle

the Congress of Industrial Organizations, which now
functions in the United States. We saw the industrial
unions as vehicles of socialized industry, not merely
as an organizing technique.

As in most other countries, Germany's labour
movement represented craft as well as industrial
unions. The old craft union members had such a
strong loyalty to their organizations that it was hard
to bring them to make any concessions. The pro¬
minent leaders of the Federation of Labour favoured
the craft unions. Before the convention of the federa¬
tion convened in Leipzig in June, 1922, we had worked
intensely for the victory of our ideas. I attended
the convention as a journalist for the Independent
Socialist press and therefore also for the famous
Leipziger Volkszeitung^ one of the oldest and most
respected labour dailies in the country. But I had
promised Robert to help, him, especially during the
time he was detained in committee meetings. Fortu¬
nately, the industrial unionist delegates recognized my
right to take part in the discussions mtMn their caucus
even though I was not a delegate. Our group became
stronger during the debates, at least partly because
of Robert's excellent exposition of our point of \ 4 ew.
Could the opposition deny that a great number of
skilled craftsmen as well as skilled or semi-skilled
labourers, although employed by the same employers,
were divided into several unions, w^hile on the side
of ownership there was a single, unified director¬
ship ? Could they deny that the form of labour
organization had changed very little during a period
when the most rapid transformation had taken place
in industry ? What had labour done to meet the

183

Toni Sender

concentration of capital into huge single concerns
and combines ?

“ If you want to support efficiently the work of
the shop councils, you can do it only on the basis of
the industry'. We have \«dened the interest of labour
from their owm working and living conditions to an
understanding of the implications of their industry as
a part of the national economy. The principle should
be : in every' shop only one union,” Robert told the
convention. He was the most applauded speaker.

But the craft unionists would not give up so easily.
They were furious about my critical articles in the
Leipziger Volkszeiiung, which every delegate found each
morning on his chair. One morning after the open¬
ing of the convention the chairman launched a bitter
attack on me—knowing that as a journalist I was
in no position to answer him. But the bulk of the
delegates, no matter what their political affiliation,
came to my defence and insisted that the chairman
had no right of censorship over the press and that
I was fuUy entitled to write editorially my personal
view's whether they liked them or not. But that did
not prevent the presiding officer of the next session
from repeating the admonition to me, although in a
somew'hat milder form. The rebuke was sweetened
by the chairman, old August Brey, president of the
powerful Factory Workers Union. When I returned
to my seat after a recess, I found he had left me a
package of chocolate. The kind old man wanted to
show me that he desired no enmity between us.

Before the discussion was terminated by the adop¬
tion of the decisive paragraph of Robert Dissmann’s
motion, the news burst on the convention of a new

184

Return to the Struggle

attack upon the republic. Dr. Walter Rathenau,
Minister for Foreign x4frairs5 who had given up his
position in the great electrical concern il.E.G. to
place his talent at the disposal of the republic, had
been assassinated on his way to his office. In full
daylight, while drmng in his open car, he had been
shot by three young men who were under the influence
of illegal, reactionary organizations. One of them was
a Nazi. Rathenau was a man of the bourgeoisie, head
of one of the biggest corporations of the country.
But the labour convention boiled at the news of the
cowardly murder of this genuine idealist. Everyone
knew who were really responsible for the murder—
those men of the parties of the Right who had viciously
expressed their hatred of this statesman’s spoken and
printed word. Rathenau had worked devotedly for
improvement of the German republic’s position on
the international scene. But these men of the Right
hated the republic. They deeply resented the influ¬
ence of the labouring people in a democratic state,
and the workers understood that the shots which
killed the capable and idealistic minister were also
aimed at them.

The convention was immediately adjourned as a
sign of deep concern and indignation. Many dele¬
gates gathered around us, and we started to draft a
motion which would draw the necessary conclusions
from these warning shots. The first resolution was
for a general strike all over Germany. Mass meet¬
ings were to support our demands for the protection
of the republic, and for the elimination of all enemies
of the republic from the administration, the army,
and the courts. The convention also directed a call

185

Toni Sender

to all union members to be ready to defend the
young republic with their lives. The Leipzig workers
immediately organized a mass demonstration on the
Augustus-Platz, in the centre of the city, and asked
me to be one of their speakers. The huge square w^as
black, so densely stood the masses who seemed to be
ready to follow any call. It was a stormy day and it
was hard to speak against the wind. We had no loud¬
speaker. However, a solemn silence w^as maintained
so that our voices might better carry against space
and storm. It was one of the most impressive demon¬
strations of those years rich in mass gatherings. When
a few days later I was called to address a similar mass
meeting in the open air in Frankfurt, I again had
the feeling : These German workers, in spite of so
much suffering and so many disappointments, are again
ready to sacrifice to the limit in order to establish a
genuine democracy with social and economic justice.
They fully understood the significance of the murder
of Dr. Rathenau.

When those of us at the trade union convention
who were members of the Reichstag rushed back to
Berlin we met not only great excitement but a com¬
pletely new situation. Realizing the danger to the
life of the republic, the parliamentary group of the
Independent Socialists declared its readiness for closer
co-operation with the other Socialist groups. It
agreed to enter the government in order to carry
through the demands of the trade union convention.
The head of the government at that time was the
Catholic, Dr. Josef Wirth, Rathenau's close friend.
WTioever heard his inspired, flaming speech in the
Reichstag, in which he accused those responsible for

i86

Return to the Struggle

the crimes never forgot it. He concluded mdth the
famous wordSs The enemy stands at the right;” his
finger pointing to the right of the Reichstag. But
alas ! Dr. Wirth’s statesmanship did not keep pace
with his great oratoiy. A courageous cleaning out of
the republic’s enemies could not be carried through
in alliance with the German People’s party {Deutsche
Volkspartei)^ the party of hea\y industry with its
reactionaries and monarchists. When the offer of
the Independent Socialists to collaborate with the
cabinet of Dr. Wirth became knowm, the answer of
the Catholic or Centre party (Centrum) was in the
negative. The German People’s party even demanded
extension of the cabinet towards the Right ! Dr. Wirth,
instead of putting before his o\m Catholic party his
clear decision to collaborate with ail republicans,
including all democratic labour parties, gave up the
idea of extending his government to the Left.

After this weak attitude the chapters that followed
did not surprise those of us who realized that the
Rathenau murder had created a new revolutionary
situation. There had appeared the possibility that
an immediate appeal to the electorate would send to
the Reichstag a majority more likely to take drastic
measures for the safety of the republic. But no such
appeal was made. Instead, it was left to the Reichs¬
tag, as it was then constituted, to answ^er the attack
on the republic. This it did by drafting a iaw^ for
the protection of the republic ” and creating a special
Central Court for the Protection of the Republic.
These new laws could achieve their purpose only if
at the same time the great clean-up in the administra¬
tion, the army, and the courts were accomplished and

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ali secret anti-republican organizations suppressed.
But how could we expect this most necessary task to
be performed as long as the friends of the reaction,
the People’s party ministers, helped to form the
government ? The law created for the protection of
the republic was later often turned by reactionary
judges against the labour movement !

Another opportunity to strengthen the republic had
been lost. . . . However, the strong mass movement
that followed the murder of Rathenau had one result :
creation among the masses of a desire for greater
unity. The two Socialist parties responded by form¬
ing a working alliance of their Reichstag groups.
Immediately the other parties replied : the People’s
party, the Democrats, and, the Catholic party formed
their own alliance—obwously to counteract any pos¬
sible increase in labour’s influence as a consequence
of our closer collaboration.

I certainly was for greater unity of labour but I
considered organic unity unsatisfactory as long as
there was not sufficient agreement on our immediate
goal, on the methods of achieving it, and on the groups
with which we should be ready to collaborate and
those we should oppose and even' fight. This unity
of programme had not yet been reached between the
two parties. I did not want utter uniformity, but I
was under the impression that the Majority Socialists
had not drawm sufficient, if any, lessons from the
defeats in the revolution. I felt they had the mistaken
conception that Socialists in a republic must always
take part in the government, while the Independent
Socialists—at least a majority of us—wanted to be
very careful in forming alliances with other groups.

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We were strongly opposed to any coalition with, the
party of big business, the People’s party. Besides
these immediate problems, we differed in our general
outlook on the future of the republic in that we
Independent Socialists considered the revolution not
yet terminated. I insisted that we should try to clear
up these points in negotiations between the leaders of
both parties before the Nuremberg unity convention.

I was convinced that only.a real agreement on the
fundamentals of politics and tactics would give formal
unity weight and value. However, the time was short,
and I had to recognize that the bulk of our member¬
ship and of the masses were in favour of unity.

It was a hard inner struggle for me. What should
I do, join the united party knowing that I could not
agree with the attitude of the important leaders of the
former Majority Socialists, or stay aloof and separate
myself from the masses of the labouring people with
whom I felt so closely connected ? I pondered for
a long time before I made up my mind. I could
not .abandon the struggle, the fight for real political,
social, and economic freedom, to w^ich all my
endeavours had been devoted—and I knew I could
not fight efficiently as an individual but only within
an organization. I decided i I shall not separate
myself from the masses who h.ave had confidence in
me throughout the years. But if I join the united
party, I- can do it only in an upright, honest way,
openly expressing my beliefs and insisting upon the
right to go on fighting for them.

I conferred with a group of friends, Robert natur¬
ally among them, and proposed to them a draft of
a declaration which w^e would present to our party

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convention in Gera preceding the great unity congress
in Nuremberg. In this declaration I had formulated
in very precise language our fundamental conception.
It declared that we entered the united party in good
faith, prepared to use democratic methods within the
unified movement in our attempt to make our pro¬
gramme that of the majority. Those too eager to
obtain unity did not like the idea of the declaration.
But no sooner had it become known that such a
declaration was planned than the delegates came to
ask me about it. A large majority asked to be per¬
mitted to sign it. It was later to become the magna
charta of our right to stand for our convictions, for
the freedom of thought without which one cannot
belong to any organization.

The Nuremberg convention of unity offered to the
thousands w'ho witnessed it a most solemn spectacle.
No one could restrain his emotion when our old
Wilhelm Bock stretched out his hand to old Wilhehn
Pfannkuch in a touching scene of reconciliation.
Everybody seemed to be happy. But I was not. I
was very' sad, as if something had died for me. I felt
apprehension of an uncertain, perhaps dark, future.
\\4en I was about to leave the hall, unnoticed I
thought, Paul Lobe, Speaker of the Reichstag during
the greater part of the existence of the republic,
stepped towards me. He realized my emotion and
the reason for it and had come to show me his under¬
standing and sympathy. He had been a Majority
Socialist but had supported its left wing. Lobe
promised me comradeship and good companionship
in arms—and kept this promise.

The fourth year of the German republic was to be
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its most arduous. The republic had not succeeded in
winning the confidence of European statesmen. And
the people of the European democracies ? Absorbed
in their own troubles, uninformed of the great changes
the revolution had brought in Germany, unaware of
the strong reaction that a narrow, nationalistic treat¬
ment of a vanquished nation must have on their
own futures, they acquiesced in the actions of their
governments. In addition, France had suffered, and
on its own soil, most deeply from the madness of
war ; the people had been told over and over, “ C'est
rAllemagne qui patera ’’—Germany will pay for
everything.'’ The French peasant resisted the hcmy
burden of taxes and approved of his government's
policy of compelling defeated Germany to shoulder
the largest possible share of the costs of the war.

We who sought again and again in those years to
make the German republic a bulwark of peace and
freedom in the heart of Europe had hardly any leisure
for peaceful thoughts, driven as we were by the rapid
succession of events within and without Germany.

Early in 1923 my physician had ad\dsed me to re¬
turn to the mountains for a few days. No sooner had
I arrived than ne\¥s reached me of France’s decision
to march into the Ruhr. I returned immediately to
Berlin. How often in those years w^as I compelled
to recall the words of that wise and valiant woman
of the French Revolution, Madame Roland, who had
said that for her generation there could be no peace ;
theirs 'was the task of carrying out the revolution. No
less stormy was the short life of the German republic.
But the generation whose task it was to build the
republic had four years earlier endured all the horror

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of modern warfare with instruments of destruction
more powerful than could ever have been imagined
in the time of Madame Roland. The German people
still felt the effects of four years of hunger when they
were plunged into new travail.

Wkdct was the pretext employed by the'French prime
minister, Poincare, to accomplish his long-desired
occupation of the Ruhr? Germany had lagged in
its payment of reparations. Only 11,700,000 tons of
coal had been delivered instead of the 13,900,000
demanded ; and the shipment of wood to France was
short by 200,000 telegraph poles. This, to Poincare’s
mathematical and extremely anti-German mind, w’-as
sufficient cause to bring the German republic to the
brink of ruin and throw Europe into a crisis. My
first reaction had been : Are there any circumstances
under which the French occupation can be avoided ?
Ever since Poincare had become head of his govern¬
ment this act of aggression had to be expected.
Therefore, I felt, the greatest effort must be made to
give him no pretext. Precisely because the quantities
on which Germany had defaulted were so negligible,
it seemed to me that the impossible should be
attempted—to deliver the consignments on time. . . .

But now we suddenly stood before the reality of
the occupation. There was no longer time to philo¬
sophize. The patience of the new nation had at last
come to an end.

The French soldiers marched into the district that
might correctly be called the heart of German economy.
The nation’s richest coal mines lay in the Ruhr.
Were the German workers to go down into the pits
under the prodding of foreign bayonets ? Were they

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to perform forced labour under the eyes of a foreign
army ? They knew they would not merely be called
upon to make up the deficiency in ^ the reparation
payments. They had good reason to fear that the
military occupation was only the first step towards
a complete separation of the industrial areas from
Germany. It was known that Darias, not long after
chairman of the finance committee of the French
Chamber, had WTitten in 1922, in a secret report to
the French government : The Lorraine iron masters
have available twice as much iron ore as they can
work . . . but they absolutely require . . . the coke
of the Ruhrf^ The German steel industry could
achieve only half of its normal production if it was
deprived of French ore, Darias had pointed out.

We are afraid of seeing her [Germany’s] industries
develop on a scale which would enable her to assure
the payment of the debts which she has acknow¬
ledged. But so long as we are on the right bank of
the Rhine and are, masters of 45,000,000 tons of ore
a year, w^e shall be in a position to play a decisive
part in the German steel industry, demanding a con¬
trol of production in return. And no doubt this will
be the solution of the future,” Darias had informed
his government. His statement was made in connec¬
tion with the unlawful French occupation of the cities
of Dtisseldorf, Ruhrort, and Duisburg, on the right
bank of the Rhine, and it proved that the German
provinces had been seized for a double purpose.

We must fight—even without guns ; that w^as my
firm conviction. There are peaceful methods which
are uniquely the weapons of the w-orking class. If it
is united, not a hundred thousand bayonets can force

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productive work, especially if the government sanc¬
tions and supports the struggle. That was the reac¬
tion of the overwhelming majority of the German
people to the Ruhr invasion. Again the working class
stood ready to throw itself into the breach, although
it was not easy for it fully to trust a government at
whose head stood a representative of big industry,
Wilhelm Cuno. Despite all these misgivings, public
officials, white-collar employees, and the proletariat
in the Ruhr district decided almost unanimously to
meet the French aggression with passive resistance.

In spite of active co-operation with this poHcy,
misgivings hounded me from the very beginning.
Would not the passion which the struggle entailed
completely destroy that goal for which we had struggled
since the foundation of the republic—the enlighten¬
ment of the people and the establishment of friendly „
relations between the two countries ? But despite this
danger we could not allow the workers of this large
and important district to be enslaved by foreign
masters. We could not submit to the threatened
separation of unoccupied Germany from its most
important raw materials.

From the first I w^as concerned with the problem
of preventing the German people’s struggle for exist¬
ence from degenerating into an orgy of chauvinism.
This was not easy. The French had made contact
between the inhabitants of the occupied territory with
the rest of Germany extremely difficult. None could
cross the border ” without special permission from
the military authorities. My parents still lived in
the occupied territory, and in the year of the Ruhr
occupation, with its increased hardships, I could visit

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them seldom and only great difficulty. It was
altogether impossible to conceive of workers’ meetings
and large demonstrations in the embattled area* One
after another my friends were thrown into French
military prisons because as high officials of the German
republican government^ as mayors and other func¬
tionaries, they had refused to recognize the authority
of the military intruders. Later they were banished
from the Ruhr—during peacetime a foreign army
banished Germans from their own country and from
their official duties !

Under such circumstances how could we teach the
German people that they must not hate the people
of France ? How could we explain to them that the
struggle had been provoked by a clique which repre¬
sented the great capitalist interests at the moment
holding the majority in the French Chamber ? How
could we tell them that the French workers wanted
to come to an understanding with the German
workers ? The task we set ourselves seemed hopeless.
Soon, however, I was presented with a remarkable
opportunity to offer proof to at least some of the Ruhr
inhabitants of this lasting solidarity which continued
even during the struggle.

In the spring of the year the International Socialist
Congress, at which the so-called Vienna International
was reunited with the Second International, met in
Hamburg. All the delegates were free from chau\iii-
ism, all were deeply moved by the unanimity with
which not only the imperialist peace treaty but the
occupation of the Ruhr was condemned. They all
felt strongly that the occupation violated a people's
greatest right, the right to live in peace. The French,

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the Belgian, and the English Socialists renewed their
friendship with the Germans at the very moment
when arrests and senseless shootings increased the
bitterness in the Ruhr. I was a delegate to this
inspiring congress, and I resolved that the people in
the occupied territory must be given some intimation
of this spirit of brotherhood. I approached my old
friend Paul Faure, leader of the French Socialist party.
During the war, while still a soldier at the front, he
had been among the first Frenchmen to urge an early
peace without victor or vanquished. Later, after
being elected deputy from Le Greusot, the district
dominated by the all-powerful munitions corporation,
Schneider Le Greusot, he had led a fight against the
French militarists. I asked Faure to go with me to
Germany’s western frontier. There in the unoccupied
territory, hard on the border of the Ruhr, I proposed
we hold a series of public meetings for the people of
the Ruhr. He wnuld speak in French and I would
translate. We would overcome the obstacle of not
being able to hire a hall by holding the meetings in
the open country.

Paul enthusiastically agreed. Everything had to be
organized hastily, but our friends were so seized with
the idea that success was assured. The meetings were
held in an open field. One by one the people came
across the “ border ”, dodging the patrols of the
foreign army, risking imprisonment if they were caught,
until at last a great crowd was gathered—much larger
than we had expected ! Paul Faure is a great orator ;
impassioned, he sweeps his audiences along in the
surge of his emotions. Intuitively he knows how to
find the correct idiom for his audience. Although

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most of the people understood no French, they were
carried away. When I translated his \vorcis, the
enthusiasm mounted. Across the “ border '' were Ms
hated countr\mien, military police, intruders, and here
on German soil with his German brothers stood a
Frenchman w 4 o had the courage to condemn the
imperialist ambitions of France’s army.

Oh, if in 1923 France had only listened to this
voice of peace, it would not now" be trembling before
a resurrected Pan-Germanism more aggressive, more
unchecked than that of the Kaiser !

As a true internationalist, Paul Faure asked me to
return the favour. As soon as I had time I was to go
to France. It was summer before I could leave. The
journey itself w^as a problem. The resistance of the
German w^orkers to the French military authorities
had at last resulted in French seizure of the railway
administration. We boycotted these railw^ays exactly
as w^e would have boycotted any attempt at strike¬
breaking. I had to solve the problem of getting deep
into France without using the railways. At last even
this was solved. A French friend took me by motor¬
car^ over the French frontier. In that w^ay I was also
able to return. He did not do this without grave risk
to himself. His friendship, like Ms courage, I shall
never forget.

What joy to meet again those of the old friends who
had survived the war. Some of the very dear ones
were gone forever—killed in battle or, hie my dear
friend Paoli, dead from disease contracted in the
trenches. New^ comrades, younger ones, had joined
our old fourteenth section in Paris, They had been
told of my pre-war activity and of my work in Ger-

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many, and they asked me to visit them. They gave
me a touching reception. Enthusiasm ran so high that
upon the proposal of Dr. Oguse, an old-timer, they
nominated me for honorary membership in the French
Socialist party, possibly the only foreigner who has ever
received this honour.

I arrived in Paris shortly before the workers were
to observe the anniversary of the murder of Jean Jaures,
their beloved and martyred leader, the first casualty
of the World War. With Paul-Boncour and other
Frenchmen I was asked to address the memorial meet¬
ing. Paul-Boncour expressed his particular satisfaction
in speaking from the same platform with me, a German
Socialist who during the war years had protested against
the slaughter and voiced a desire for peace.

The enthusiasm among the Parisian workers and
middle class was as tumultuous and heart-felt as that
which Paul Faure had aroused in the German fields.
The authorities, however, were less enraptured. The
meeting was held on the last evening of my stay in
Paris. Afterward I remained with a few close friends
talking late into the night. They brought me to my
hotel, and I was no sooner in my room than the
telephone rang. Two o’clock in the morning ! I let
it ring, for I suspected who might be so importunate.
When at six o’clock that morning there was a loud
knock on my door, I was not taken by surprise. I
arose, dressed myself quickly, and opened the door.
The police. They had waited the whole night below
in the hotel. I hopefully expected that they would
escort me over the border in a patrol w^agon and thus
spare me the cost of the journey. The mark stood
even then at 3,,700,000 to the dollar, and I had partly

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to finance the journey myselfi But I was vay
soon disappointed, as were the police. They had
expected that my passport would not be in order and
that they could, therefore, arrest me ; but my papers
were absolutely valid and there was nothing with
w^hich they could find fault. They excused themselves
for annoying me during the night and I had to pay
out the last of my money for the return trip.

Conditions in Germany were gradually coming to
a head. Day by day the misery increased in both the
occupied and the unoccupied territory. The extremists
of the Right demanded active resistance and com¬
mitted several acts of violence in the occupied territory.
This could only hurt the German cause, which had
aroused great s^nnpathy in large parts of the world.
Military aggression, the unjust occupation of German
soil in peace time, could be dealt with effectively only
through passive resistance. These acts of sabotage
made many of us uneasy. We were unwilling to join
in a united front with those who, we already suspected,
would prefer power politics to the politics of reason if
they ever held the reins. The government did not
stand behind the saboteurs. But as long as an un¬
broken front was necessary to meet the menace of
French militarism and capitalism, we dared not disrupt
it.

In historic periods when every decision and act
carries a hea\^ responsibility, a leader’s task is very
difficult both politically and personally. A leader wffio
wishes to be taken seriously dares not simplify problems
for the sake of mere popularity. In that hour the fate
of the working class could not be separated from the
fate of the nation, however different the results of the

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struggle might be for the industrialists and the pro¬
letariat. The common man in Germany bore the
entire burden of the struggle for the Ruhr just as he
had borne the war burden. It is he who must chiefly
be thanked if the country was once again saved from
dismemberment. The National Socialists who to-day
speak so contemptuously of the fourteen years of the
repubhc in those days had absolutely no understanding
of Germany’s desperate struggle for existence. While
the German workers on the Rhine, in the Ruhr, in
all of Germany, starved and sacrificed, the National
Socialists turned their weapons against the “ November
criminals” as they used to term labour officials and
democrats. It was clear to us that without national
independence we could neither attain nor preserve
domestic fireedom.

This struggle for independence, forced on us fi-om
the outside, added tremendously to the difficulty of
clarifying our internal problems and led to an increas¬
ing paralysis of the domestic economy. The paper
certificates which were called money grew into figures
ever more astronomical. Their value was measured
with the dollar. After my return from Paris the dollar
had risen on the Berlin exchange to a value of more
than seven mfflion marks. Shops began to close at
midday because, with the sharp rise of the doUar,
business men could no longer keep up with the rapidly
changing prices.

In the midst of all this unrest I was able to pay a
short visit to my parents in the occupied territory. I
found my mother very much disturbed. She com¬
plained that my father was simply giving away his
entire stock of goods j unlike others, he refused to

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adjust the selling price to the cost price. It had long
been impossible to set any fixed value on the markj
as its value changed from day to day. If my father
continued, his large and valuable stock would soon be
entirely squandered. I tried to con\ince him of this.
He was astonished that I, of ail people, should express
such ideas. Like his father before Mm, he was known
as an upright and honourable business man, and even
in these stormy times he would not deviate from liis
principles. He refused to profit from tiie misery of
the people. I neither could nor would argue any
longer. The result, after the inflation, was what my
mother had feared—my father had given away the
greater part of his property.

Undoubtedly some persons became profiteers during
the inflation. In part, these were the speculators in
bills of exchange and stocks. But for most of them it
was a false profit that quickly melted away after the
stabilization. The most spectacular profiteer was
Hugo Stinnes. He utilized the stupid and irrespon¬
sible policy of the president of the Reiclisbank, Haven-
stein, constantly to acquire new stock majorities and
expand his concerns indiscriminately. The Reichs-
bank lent money on time without taking into account
the value of the mark. Thus men like Stinnes, who
were able to go directly to the Reichsbank, could
borrow capital when the exchange rate of the dollar
stood at three million marks and repay their loans
later when the dollar had risen to a hundred million
marks. Small wonder that such a monetary policy
contributed to the ever growing depletion of the
Reichsbank’s gold reserve !

A complete stabilization of the German currency or,
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more important, creation of a new currency could not
be accomplished as long as the hole in the west was
open—that is, as long as the government had to pump
millions every day into the occupied territory to sustain
the people whose passive resistance had led them to
forgo their regular income. Moreover, Hugo Stinnes's
accumulation of blocks of stocks, aided by the ReichS“
bank’s shortsighted policy, had to be stopped for
economic as well as psychological reasons, Stinnes
himself did not recognize this. From the first moment
of his membership on the foreign affairs committee of
the Reichstag, to which I also belonged, I felt that he
was honestly convinced that the interests of his enter¬
prises were identical with the economic interests of the
German people^ When Hugo Stinnes spoke at com¬
mittee meetings in his strange low whisper, members
listened with every nerve strained. Yet it was no
extraordinary wisdom that we heard, and the great
respect of the majority was paid rather to the currently
successful and daring entrepreneur than to the thought¬
ful statesman. A little later we were to see that even
the entrepreneur was not so successful and that his
huge enterprises could melt away as quickly as they
had been accumulated.

Hugo Stinnes opposed stabilization on the ground
that it would injure Germany’s ability to export. It
did not enter his mind that German goods were able
to compete abroad only because of the underpayment
of the German worker, which was hidden by the
tremendous inflation figures. This lack of stabilization
was deeply felt by the workers. I lived among them
and daily I saw their misery increase. Towards the
end of the struggle for the Ruhr I felt it in my own

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body. Often I had no bread and no money wth
which to buy it ! Yet I belonged to the high-income
class. The Reichstag sent us our salaries through the
post office. Before the post office could pay it out,
the mark would again fall so low that I could just
manage to pay my rent; nothing was left for the
remaining living expenses. The fee for an article I
might be asked to write, although remitted immediately
on receipt of the manuscript, was enough when it
arrived to buy only a postage stamp ! Without the
help of my proletarian friends I would often have gone
without the necessities of life, and it was very seldom
indeed that I did not leave the table hungry.

For the great mass of people it was no different. In
September we had to pay 220,000,000 paper marks
for one dollar, and gradually we began to count in
billions. I have never been able to understand how
the ordinary person could arrive at any conception
of those dizzying figures. Many things became scarce,
and again there were bread-lines before the shops.
If a person had money in his hand, he could not rest
until he had spent it, and that was the only thing to
do. Money was still worth more to-day than it would
be to-morrow, and we soon learned to calculate in
hours. Wages were paid twice and, later, three times
a week. Usually the worker immediately bought pro¬
visions for his family in the vicinity of his factory, for
if he waited.to let his wife shop in the neighbouring
store, the mark would again have fallen and perhaps
they could buy nothing.

Foreigners then in Germany could enjoy for a ridicu¬
lous amount luxuries such as they could never have
afforded in their own countries. That these visitors

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were not met with great cordiality by the starving
Germans can surprise no one.

In addition to these difficulties, on the pofitical side
the nation had to bear the tremendous weight of the
struggle for the Ruhr. In the summer the Union of
German Industry laid down a series of outrageous con¬
ditions on which it would help the government. It
offered a guarantee of 500,000,000 gold marks to be
shared between industry and agriculture. In return
for this, which was nothing more than a civic duty,
it dictated its terms to the government : there was to
be no state interference in industry ; demobilization
decrees and the last remnants of planned economy
(which protected both the consumer and the worker)
were to be abandoned. It demanded also complete
freedom in laboiir agreements, although “ in principle ”
the eight-hour day would be upheld; and they
demanded that industry be freed firom “ unproductive
taxes”. Incidentally, the tax on employees’ salaries
was deducted by the employers from the pay envelopes,
thus making the levy as fixed as the salaries themselves.
But the propertied classes paid their taxes many months
after they had fallen due, so that, through the constant
depreciation of the mark, what they paid was only a
small fraction of the original value of the tax.
Demands of the people for tax reforms were dis¬
regarded. A stronger control of foreign exchange,
called for by the Socialists to prevent further capital
flight, was never accomplished.

At last the people asked themselves : would it be
the same as it had been during the war ? Then, too,
it was we who starved and sacrificed, while the rich,
by bootleg means, could get everything they wanted.

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Now that the masters of industry sought to utilize
the nation’s misery to dictate terms to the government,
the unrest of the people was further intensified. With
each day the misery increased and with the mounting
tide of discontent the social crisis sharpened, the
elements of conflict grew. The “ Black Reichswehr ”,
an illegal military organization under the leadership
of Major Buchrucker, attempted a Putsch on October i
in the Prussian fortress of Kustrin. The Putsch was
put down and the leaders arrested, but the people
learned of the Black Reichswehr’s existence, for the
truth leaked out despite attempts to conceal it. Could
passive resistance still be maintained ?

Some of the French military authorities tried to
arouse a separatist movement in the occupied terri¬
tory ; they hoped to utilize the confusion which would
arise to effect the separation of this important Rhine¬
land district. Among the people there was very limited
sympathy for this movement; its following was com¬
posed mainly of riffraff for whom the Rhineland people
felt only contempt. Some among the French authori¬
ties, particularly those who had been in the Ruhr for
a longer time and had a feeling for the people, realized
that this effort was both mistaken and hopeless. One
of their leading men frankly admitted this to me.

Still more serious, however, were the events in
Bavaria. Here the middle class had never been very
strongly in favour of the republic. This dislike was
combined with Bavaria’s traditional separatism ; its
own particular quirk was striving after the preservation
of “ Bavarian individuality ”. This “ Bavarian in¬
dividuality ” manifested itself now in the increasingly
reactionary political recruiting of the ruling Bavarian

205

Toni Sender

People’s party, the Bavarian wing of the Catholic or
Centre party. The situation came to a head when
the Bavarian administration named the Munich presi¬
dent, Kahr, as General State Commissioner and
declared a state of siege. It amounted to an actual
rebellion of Bavaria against the Republic. Thereupon
the Berlin government decreed a state of siege for the
entire nation, basing its order upon constitutional pre¬
rogatives which gave federal rights precedence over
states’ rights. The exceptionalist position of Bavaria
had to be settled. But the Bavarian State Com¬
mission and the Bavarian government ridiculed
this demand and drew the leaders of the Bavarian
Reichswehr into their rebellion. The Nazi newspaper
Volkischer Beobackter violently attacked the President of
the republic and the Minister of the Reichswehr.
Thereupon the Minister of the Reichswehr announced
the suppression of the newspaper and ordered his
subordinate, von Lossow, the general in command of
the Bavarian Reichswehr, to occupy its premises.
Von Lossow refused to carry out the order, having
no desire to quarrel with the Bavarian government.
When the minister demanded his dismissal, von Lossow
delivered this order to the Bavarian authorities. He
did not retire, but the Bavarian government, instead,
demanded the resignation of the Reichswehr Minister !

The republic could not re-establish its authority in
Bavaria—^it answered the Bavarian provocations with
declarations on paper. But it behaved quite differently
' towards the governments of Saxony and Thiiringen.
In these states Social Democrats and Communists
governed in coalitions, supported by the diets, which'
had been elected by a majority of the people. Both

206

Return to the Struggle

governments wercj therefore, altogether legal, even if
they did not please the bourgeoisie of their regions.
The coalitions were designed as a united defence against
the danger of fascism. I sympathized with this struggle
and was in close touch with my Saxon friends. It
was at that time that I first became acquainted wdth
the Saxon prime minister, Zeigner. He was a sensitive
man, too sensitive to be a statesman, highly cultured
and with a real enthusiasm for the republic. The
fact that he was a newcomer to the field of active
politics aggravated his already complicated task.
Given the good will of his associates, he would have
soon overcome this drawback. His position was
arduous and thankless. His difSculties had begun
with the Communist members of his cabinet. But
Zeigner had incurred the special wrath of the Mnister
of the Reichswehr because he had made it his specific
task to learn the truth about the Black Reichswehr
and to fight with all his power against the existence
of this illegal group. In Saxony, as a counter-move
against the private army of the National Socialists,
the “ Proletarian Hundreds ” were formed with the
co-operation of the Saxon government. These were
military formations of loyal republicans whose aim was
to protect the republic from a putsch by the nationalists,
and particularly by the Nazis.

The republic had taken no action against the private
army of the Bavarian National Socialists, although it
must have known that the purpose of this group was
to overthrow the republican regime. Now the most
outrageous incident took place. The commanding
ofiicer of the Saxon Reichswehr demanded the dis¬
solution of the Proletarian Hundreds. A violent con-

207

Toni Sender

troversy followed between the republic and the Saxon
government. The latter soon learned that though
the republic would tolerate the Bavarian violation of
the constitution, it would show a strong hand towards
a proletarian government. An understanding might
still have been possible between Saxony and the
republic except for the clumsy and provocative action
taken by the Minister of the Reichswehr. He
appointed a government commissioner for Saxony
and demanded that the elected government of Saxony
resign. When Zeigner rightly rejected this illegal
demand, he was arrested. Federal troops were sent
in. The government had been elected legally and
held the confidence of a majority of the people—but
it was destroyed by military force. The people of
Saxony met the oncoming Reichswehr with wild rage.
So brutally did the army proceed that in various places
clashes claimed a high death toll among the people.

But Bavaria, openly rebelling against the authority
of the republic, continued unpunished !

It was this that most aroused the people : severity
against the Left, tolerance towards the Right. The
state of siege was employed only against the working
class, that same class which in the struggle for the
Ruhr had borne the entire burden of maintaining the
German republic. The workers had been thrown into
French prisons, they had been banished from their
country, they had been killed—more than a hundred
—and all of them had starved no less frightfully than
in the most desperate war years. When one looked
about in the streets of the large cities, one saw only
listless, emaciated figures, pale and careworn faces.
Must the same thing always be repeated—must so

208

Return to the Struggle

much devotion always be rewarded with injustice?
Was there any reason left to struggle and sacrifice?
Those questions agitated the entire %vorking class in
the occupied, as in the unoccupied, territory. The
portents of a hunger revolt were perceptible.

In the streets of Frankfurt this terrific tension was
already apparent. Crowds of people milled about
without aim or purpose. It seemed as if they sensed
that something was about to happen and they wanted
to be there when it did. They offered a terrible picture
of suffering.

At this time an extra-hard blow fell. The firm
of Kleyer, the most important metal w^orks in the
city, closed its doors and discharged its workers.
This gave an impetus to mass dismissals ail along
the line, and the majority of the workers now suffered
extreme poverty. A few days before, by agree¬
ment, the wages of the metal w'orkers had been fixed
at eight billion marks an hour. What the buying
power of this grotesque figure was no one really knew
—the next day the mark had fallen again. Unemploy¬
ment increased, prices soared. The cost of living in
Frankfurt towards the end of October was : without
clothing, 1,458,321,000,000 marks a year ; with cloth¬
ing, 1,705,936,000,000 marks. Such were the astrono¬
mical figures in which the German people had to
calculate. Reckoning stops at such a point, rational
thoughts cease, and emotion takes possession.

An explosion was due. It came in the form of
demands for a general strike. Why did its proponents
want to involve the entire working class in a political
general strike ? None of them could answer this
question—they themselves did not know. They merely

209

Toni Sender

knew that the burden simply could be borne no longer.
A valve had to be opened. They thought a general
strike would change the entire situation.

The Frankfurt union heads had met and had averted
a local general strike by referring the decision to Berlin.
A large part of the workers refused to abide by this
decision. Excitement rose higher, and the workers
decided immediately to call together all the shop
stewards in the city. The workers from the factories
themselves would decide. Neither party nor union
leadership was consulted. I learned of this decision
and sought out the political leaders, the industrial
leaders, all those who held high positions in the
administration. I pleaded with them, “ Let us go to
the meeting this evening. Perhaps our efforts will be
in vain, but we hold our authority only for the purpose
of using it in such decisive hours. Let us try to save
the workers from injuring themselves.” The plea was
rejected by everyone : “ This evening’s meeting is a
mad affair. We wiU have nothing to do with it.”

What could be done? I decided to go. I felt a
duty to point out to the workers the economic con¬
sequences of a strike. At this moment a general strike
would be welcomed by the employers. Until now
the factories had been able, to a large extent, to manu¬
facture for export. But now, through the tremendous
rise in prices, the export trade was practically cut off.
Domestic buying power was also very low. A general
strike would only permit the industrialists to free them¬
selves from their contractual corrunitments. During
this period there were still laws extending to workers’
protection against dismissal. A strike would enable
the employers to evade their legal responsibilities

210

Return to the Struggle

towards discharged workers. Later, when they rehired,
they would seek out those workers w'ho -were most
docile. Thus they could rid themselves of the older,
more experienced shop stewards who had insisted too
strongly on fighting for the rights of the working class.

I "dared not be silent—I had to try at least to raise
a voice of reason at the meeting. As I approached
the People’s Centre, where the meeting had been
called, I could see what aw'aited me. Thousands, in¬
flamed, aroused, forced their way into the building.
Only because they all knew me could I succeed in
getting into the hall. The balconies were completely
filled with the unemployed. In the corridors of the
building the masses crowded, pushing and shoving.
The air was charged with electricity.

I asked to be permitted to speak first. A glance
around the hall had convinced me that an appeal to
reason would miscarry.

I said to the workers that they could count on me
tmder all circumstances, I would never desert them.
But I pointed out the economic situation and the
service which they were unwarily on the point of per¬
forming for the industrialists. I could go no further.
An uproar filled the hall. The most excited would
not listen to me any longer—they would listen to no
one who did not agree with them about the general
strike. At last a Communist called upon his party
comrades to hear me quietly, for, he said, I had always
served the working class faithfully. Even if they did
not agree with me, they ought, nevertheless, to listen
to my arguments.

That was better than I had expected. Meanwhile,
however, a similar meeting was being held in the

2II

Toni Sender

vicinity. Reports of my speech were given there. It
was answered by demands from several extremists that
I be hanged.

When I saw that it was impossible to obtain the
complete abandonment of the general strike, I tried
to save the situation and protect the workers from too
great harm. I asked them why they wanted to strike,
what the goal was for which they were determined to
struggle. There was no clear answer. It was a revolt
against hunger, against the injustice of the disparate
treatment of the Right and the Left, against the growth
of reaction, and particularly against the entry of the
army into Saxony.

I said that if the Saxons themselves wanted to fight
and w^ould appeal to our soHdarity, we would naturally
be ready to join them. But Frankfurt, alone and
isolated, could not carry on a general strike against
the entry of the Reichswehr into Saxony.

After the advocates of the general strike had un¬
mistakably shown that they had no clear idea of a goal,
I made a last determined attempt to save the situation.
I proposed that a limited twenty-four hour—at the
most, forty-eight hour—demonstration strike be called,
after which the workers would again take up their
tools. I counselled them not to include further demands
unless similar actions were decided upon in Saxony
or the rest of Germany. My friends in the audience
were delighted with this solution. Such a strike could
not be lost and would save the situation. Since it
would be intended only as a demonstration and a
warning, it would not have to be pursued to a victorious
end. A one- or two-day strike demanded no support
from the union treasuries. Such support could not be

212

Return to the Struggle

counted upon in any case, for the complete ruin of
the German currency as a result of the struggle for
the Ruhr had emptied the best-filled union treasuries.
And without financial assistance the starving workers
could not hold out long.

I discussed this proposal, which had struck a sym¬
pathetic response among part of the audience, with
the Communists. My proposals fell on deaf ears.
They wanted their general strike without any concern
for the consequences. All my efforts were in vain.
Outside on the streets thousands of the depression
victims impatiently awaited the outcome, threatening
to storm the building unless a general strike were
decided upon.

A committee of action was formed to w^hich I was
elected. That night we held a conference—but every¬
thing was wrecked by the obstinacy of the Com¬
munists. The unions opposed a general strike ^ on
principle, but they were ready to take part in a limited
demonstration strike in order to save the situation
for the workers. The unions were alienated by the
behaviour of the Communists, and on the next day
only a partial strike began. It showed that the Com¬
munists influenced a large part of the unemployed,
but only a small part of the employed. After two days
it was decided to resume work. The result was what
I had feared—a terrible defeat for the workers. In
later years many Frankfurt workers reminded me of
this episode—regretting that my ad\ice had not then
been taken, for, if it had, many a key position lost
by the defeat of the general strike would have been
saved. Countless thousands starved for months before
they were re-employed.

213 P

Toni Sender

Immediately after the clearing up of the situation
in Frankfurt my promise to the people was discharged.
Obeying the request of my Saxon friends, I left for
the occupied section of Saxony. Here, too, they
were considering a general strike. But here they
had a clear aim : to restore legality, violated by the
entry of the Reichswehr. Since the action had not
arisen spontaneously out of the will of the masses, I
again counselled a limited strike. It impressed me that
here, in the midst of the events which had stirred the
temper of Frankfurt so powerfully, the people w^ere
so much wiser although there was no lack of provoca¬
tion. Clashes with the army were many. Thus in
Freiberg, when people on the street did not immedi¬
ately obey the command to return to their homes,
they had been shot at by the Reichswehr and twenty-
three dead and thirty-one wounded had been left
lying on the street. The strike in Saxony was only of
short duration, since a new legal government had
meanwhile been organized in the Saxon diet. This
laid a basis for constitutionalism and adjustment of
the dispute with Berlin.

The struggle for the Ruhr had at last to come to
an end. It had proved that even an unarmed people
could in their despair still grasp at means of defence,
that force alone could not keep the wheels of industry
turning. But at what a heavy sacrifice. . . .

The final episode in the struggle for the Ruhr
once again made clear who were the true patriots
among the people. The French general, Degoutte,
had not attempted to negotiate with the German
government for the cessation of the policy of passive
resistance. His ridiculous pretext was that the govern-

214

Return to the Struggle

ment would not cease its aid to the unemployed of
the Ruhr. As if one could simply abandon tens of
thousands to naked misery ! Degoutte turned to the
industrialists, Stinnes, Vogler, Klockner, and Otto
Wolff—all men with whom Adolf Hitler later was to
be on the best of terms. The German government
and its people first learned from Paris despatches that
in these direct negotiations Hugo Stinnes had sought
the co-operation of the French generals to force the
German miners to accept a working day of ten hours
above ground with eight and one-half hours for
underground work.

That was how industry repaid the working class
which in the darkest hours of the German republic
had suffered, starved, and sacrificed every^thing for
German independence. At the end of the Ruhr
struggle, in an appeal to the German people, the govern¬
ment stated that 180,000 Germans had been exhed
from their homes by the French army of occupation,
that hundreds had been imprisoned and more than
a hundred killed. But the most critical result of
the occupation w^as the complete ruin of the German
currency, and through this the total expropriation of
the lower middle class. These people would not
admit that they had been declassed, could not reconcile
themselves to becoming proletarians. They became
the first recruits when the wave of Nazism swept over
Germany. They believed the Nazi promises because
they could no longer believe in themselves.

In 1923 the French did everything to create for
themselves the terrible menace of 1939.

215

X

YEARS IN THE REICHSTAG

The Ruhr struggle, with all it entailed, the measures
connected with its liquidation and the stabilization of
the German currency, had exacted from the labour¬
ing classes—including the white-collar workers—the
heaviest sacrifices. They had to pay, as usual, the
costs of maintaining Germany’s integrity. Wasn’t
it exactly as in the war? An understandable dis¬
content was rising. Our parliamentary group de¬
manded amendment of some of the government
decrees, the allegation to some extent of labour’s
burden. Other groups presented their demands.
The government, headed by the Catholic, Marx,
refused to support such changes, and the Reichstag
was dissolved in the spring of 1924,

It was at that time that an invitation to come to
Belgium reached me. Should I accept it despite the
fact that the nomination of candidates for the new
Reichstag was nearing ? The selection of candidates
was comphcated somewhat as a result of the reunion
of the two Socialist parties. However, I concluded
that they knew my record. If they wanted me back
in the Reichstag, they could nominate me in my
absence. If they didn’t want me, I should not impose
myself on them.

216

Tears in the Reichstag

I went to Antwerp, in the Flemish-speaking part of
Belgium, where my oldest sister lived. My friends of
the labour movement gave me a warm reception,
Willem Eekelers, chief editor of the labour daily,
whom I had met before at the metal workers' conven¬
tions, where he was a delegate, did eveiything to make
my sojourn as agreeable as possible and at the same
time useful for the labour movement. Eekelers,
descendant of a peasant family and of hea\y stature,
is a very good orator. He had enjoyed little educa¬
tion in his childhood but had since used all his spare
time to fill the gap. He was the recognized labour
leader of his province, and later he became a member
of the Chamber and a successful alderman in charge
of Antwerp's educational system. It was Eekelers
who introduced me to a circle of artists, painters,
and musicians. From them I learned to look at the
dreamy, grey Flemish landscape wth more open
eyes and to recognize its singular charm. We people
of the mountain regions find it difficult to recognize
the beauty of the lowlands, especially when the plain
is so often wrapped in fog as in the Flemish country.
But living, even for a short time, with the people of this
region is to be captured by the warmth of their spirit.
They have a deep love for their land and, in contrast
with the simple, calm, landscape, are of a cheerful, gay
temper-—people who deeply enjoy life in all its phases.

De Bom, my chaperon, editor of a newspaper and
a former librarian, took me to the typical old Flemish
home of the painter I. Opsomer in Liers, a picturesque
little medieval town. Once there we also went to
see Felix Timmermans, the peasant witer whose
home was crowded with a great collection of old-

"217

Toni Sender

fashioned knick-knacks. We were always accompanied
by a number of young painters, encouraged and
patronized by young-old De Bom. On one of our
trips we visited in Hs castle another of De Bom’s
friends, Jef van Hof, the musician and composer.
We became good friends, and a few years later Jef
and De Bom came to see me in my little house in
Dresden and again we spent happy hours together.
That night in Flanders Jef sat at the piano and let
his imagination roam. Of tail, lean stature, this
man with the glowing eyes and great love of music
seemed to fit well into his surroundings—people called
his home the spook” castle. All these people in
a way were rebels—enthusiastic Flemings who had
revolted against the domination of the Walloons in
this bilingual Belgian homeland,

Eekelers also wanted me to meet his friends, the
Flemish w^orkers. One evening he came to see me
and said :

Toni, I have arranged a series of meetings and
you must come with me and address the audiences.
You may speak in German. They will understand
you. They learned the language during the occupa¬
tion, if they did not know it before. You will be the
first German since the w^ar to address them. Will
you come with me ? ”

‘‘ Do you really think w^e can risk it, Willem ? ”
I replied. I have been driving around the country
for several days and eveiywvhere I have seen the
ghastly ruins of homes, barns, and factories destroyed
by German shells and grenades. People cannot have
forgotten so soon what they suffered under German
occupation and I do not want to hurt their feelings.”

218

Tears in the Reichstag

But you were not responsible for Willem
retorted. “ Our workers have remained interna¬
tionalists in spite of all their suffering. Please do
come.'’

I could not refuse himj nor did I have cause to
regret it. In these densely populated towns and
villages, men and w^omen, workers and farmers,
flocked into the meeting halls—veiy" plain places,
most of them adjoining a public house. They came
in their simple clothes, the w^omen without hats,
their faces still showing traces of suffering and priva¬
tion. But far from haring become hardened by
what they had endured, they were the most receptive
and sympathetic audience that a speaker could desire.
Such an enthusiastic reception I certainly could
not have expected. No, these people did not hate,
despite their sad experience with the armies of my
country. They wanted understanding and friendship,
even with the enemy ” of yesterday.

How much did I need such encouragement after
the sad realization of the lack of understanding on
..the part of the Allied statesmen for the young German
republic.

While I was still in Belgium, Robert wrote me
that both of us had been renominated as candidates
for the Frankfurt district. But at the same time
my friends in Dresden, Saxony, asked me if I were
ready to be their candidate for the Reichstag. They
wished to replace the elderly, very moderate man,
who had hitherto represented them, vdth a younger,
more progressive person. I accepted both nomina¬
tions. You could do that in the German republic,
for residence in the constituency was not required.

219

Toni Sender

Of course, I had to rush home to start the campaign.
This time I had to campaign in two constituencies,
besides addressing a number of meetings in other
cities to which I was imdted. Though our party
suffered hea\^ losses, I was elected in both con¬
stituencies, Frankfurt and Dresden. I had to choose
between the two seats and I finally decided to become
a member of the Reichstag for Dresden. That city
’^vould confront me \sdth a new task and probably
new difficulties and, therefore, an opportunity for
new experiences. I learned to like the people of
my new surroundings, so different from the cheerful
population of the Rhine and Main valleys to which
I was accustomed. But I also had to combat there
demagogues whose radicalism was only a vehicle of
careerism.

The Reichstag elected in May, 1924, was ^short¬
lived. Its only work consisted in the adoption of
the Dawes Plan, the bills containing new conditions
for settlement of the reparations and other imposi¬
tions of the Versahles Treaty. These bills were
finally adopted with the votes of the ^ German
Nationalists [Deutschnationale), who had vigorously
campaigned against these laws and against a policy
of understanding. They finally Traded the votes of
half of their members for the promise of Stresemann’s
People’s party that it would insist on the formation
of a government with the participation of the
Nationalists. Prime Minister Marx was unwilling to
submit to the conditions of this horse trade, so the
Reichstag was dissolved, and on December 7
the second general elections of 1924.

It was interesting to realize how much the elections
220

Tears in the Reichstag

reflected the fact that economic misery led to increased
influence for the extremist parties, while improved
business activity, together with some improvement
in international relations, had the result of weakening
them.

NL 4 Y 4, 1924

Votes

Members Elected

Socialists

6,014,372

100

Communists

3.-746,643

62

Nazis

1,924,018

32

Others

17,703,544

278

DECEMBER 7, 1924

Votes

Members Elected

Socialists

7,880,058

131

Communists

2,708,176

45

Nazis

908,087

14

Others

18,786,676

3*23

Nazis and Communists had each lost more than a
million votes within seven months, while the Socialists
had gained almost two million. But at the same
time the German Nationalists came back somewhat
stronger with 103 members instead of 96. They
promptly insisted upon cashing in their proceeds of
the horse trade for ministerial positions.

A new era for the German republic began in 1925.
The government of Dr. Hans Luther, later Nazi
ambassador in Washington, was based on a pact
between heav>^ industry, represented by the People’s
party, and the Junkers, the big agrarian property
owners, whose parliamentary delegates were in the
German Nationalist party. Of course, it w'as not pure
idealism that bound these two parties together but
rather pure material interest. It was the year that

221

Toni Sender

opened TOth a victory for reaction in the election of
Paul von Hindenburg as President. Naturally, he
was the candidate of the Right. He was elected only
on a second ballot after none of the candidates in the
first election had obtained a majority. Hindenburg’s
election in the second poll was made possible by the
attitude of the Communists, who maintained the
candidacy of Ernst Thalmann, though it was absolutely
hopeless. They took sufficient votes from the republi¬
can candidate, the Catholic Wilhelm Marx, to defeat
him. The second vote stood thus : Hindenburg,
14,655,000 ; Marx, 13,751, 615 ; Thalmann, 1,931,151.

This election was to be more decisive than most
people could then foresee. The alliance between
heavy industry and the wealthy landowners was to
have serious consequences. In 1925 Germany had
regained the liberty to deal with tariffs and trade
policy which had been taken away from her by the
Versailles Treaty. What use the Reichstag would
make of this regained right would be decisive for the
welfare of the German masses and for Germany’s
future. I had taken an early interest in the problem
and had prepared for it by study and investigation.
It became my conviction that Germany’s geographical
and economic position predestined her to become the
champion of free trade. A nation with a very highly
developed industrial machinery, lacking most of the
indispensable raw materials could guarantee a richer
life to its people only by fighting successfully to remove
the many obstacles to a free exchange of goods between
the nations, especially the new states that had been
created after the war. It did not escape me that
some special interests could profit, at least for a certain

222

Years in the Reichstag

length of time, from a high tariff, but it had never
occurred to me that a member of the Reichstag could
justifiably defend such private interests as against
those of the nation as a whole.

I followed with close attention the scientific economic
discussions which preceded the parliamentary debate.
Many of us collaborated in the committee of experts
set up by the Reichstag. It developed that, together
with my political associates, I could fully agree wth
the recognized agrarian scientists like Professor Aerebo
and Professor Bering. They were strongly opposed
to a high grain tariff, the levy that was to become
the cornerstone of the entire system. Although
very thorough research work was accomplished in,
these debates, the deputies who later made the
decisions took little notice of the proceedings. Most
interested and attentive were the labour parties and
some representatives of small peasant groups.

During our researches and while we were assem¬
bling scientifically sound data, other negotiations had
been going on behind the scenes which seemed to
interest the gentlemen of the Right much more.
The small farmers were not imdted to them. The
reason for this I had an opportunity to explain later
in the Reichstag. Only one tenth of the German
agrarians, the Junkers, were interested in high grain
prices, while nine tenths of them, the medium and
smaller farmers, had to buy grain and therefore
wanted low grain prices. The famous scientist Lujo
Brentano had estimated that the cost to the German
nation of the newly proposed high grain duties w^ould
be about one billion marks. The main burden would
..have to be borne by the masses of the people in the

223

Toni Sender

form of Hglier bread prices. When the government
of Dr. Luther finally brought its bill before the
Reichstagj the deal between big business and big
agrarians had already been completed—one group
promised the other to vote for their. tariffs if they
practised reciprocity.

I was one of two speakers charged by the Social
Democratic group in the Reichstag to present its
point of view. My work in economic legislation was
shaped by these aims : the prosperity of the entire
national economy, closer co-operation among all
European states, and bridging of the gap between
the workers and the middle classes, especially the
farmers. I could not see why there should remain
the old antagonism between worker and farmer,
between city and country, which enlisted most of
the farmers in the ranks of reaction—to their own
detriment and that of the republic. I was prepared
to make the utmost effort to bring about a more
natural alignment of the component parts of the
nation. Could it not be demonstrated that the farmers'
interests in the past had always run parallel to those
of the labourer ? There was the fact that the annual
income of the farmers showed the same upward or
downward tendencies as that of the workers.

In my address to the house I urged that Europe's
welfare required the creation of larger, more efficient
markets, which could be accomplished only if the
European nations worked towards becoming an
economic unit. There should be no economic warfare
between European peoples—the success of every
country should depend upon its ability and the value
of its achievements. The government's weak justifica-

224

Tears in the Reichstag

tion of its bill consisted of reproaches to other nations
for having built up high tariff wails.

'' But if you reproach the other states for their
erection of obstacles to the necessary^ world tradCj
how can you rectify their mistakes by committing a
similar one with full knowledge of its iniquities"? ''
I asked. How can you compare Germany’s economic
position with its need of importing raw material,
which must be paid for by at least a corresponding
amount of exports—how compare us with other
nations possessing richer resources ? You say you
create tMs high tariff only as an instrument for
negotiating trade treaties with other nations. Why
did you then demand that the .grain tariff remain
separate and fixed ? Industry and agriculture, in
their secret alliance for Iiigher tariffs, will succeed
only in mutually increasing their cost of production.
There was never a time when our economy was more
in need of a fresh current of the air of foreign com¬
petition.

How can a country like Germany ever dream
of autarchy? The full character of your economic
policy is shown in the fact that at the same moment
that you are demanding new high tariff w^alis the
gentlemen of the German Association of Manufacturers
send a demand that the government resist w^age
increases. How can you bring prosperity by .first
increasing the cost of living and then keeping down
the purchasing power of the masses ?

Through having continued in close contact with
developments in the steel and metal industiy^ I had
obtained knowledge of secret negotiations between
the German iron cartel, the French iron producers,

225

Toni Sender

and those of other continental countries, negotia¬
tions based on a high German iron tariff which had
not even been discussed, much less voted, by the
Reichstag. If such negotiations were necessary, they
should of course have been conducted by the govern¬
ment and with the knowledge and control of the
democratic representatives of the people. The obvious
assumption of these parleys was that the high iron
tariff would not be lowered by the government in
trade treaty negotiations. The grain tariff on one
side and the iron tariff on the other were the corner¬
stones of the entire bill—small but powerful groups
of economic royalists demanded both forms of pro¬
tection.

I accused the government of having surrendered
the prerogative of negotiations and asked if it were
true that they had lent aid to the manmuvre of the
steel cartel to form a Eimopean steel trust at the
expense of the consumers. This strategy was devised
so that the German steel trust might take certain
limited quantities of iron from abroad at a reduced
tariff on condition that the entire quantity would be
delivered exclusively to the German steel trust. Thus
the foreign producers would have no direct access to
the German market, while the price for domestic steel
could be manipulated by the German trust magnates.
They knew they could in this way maintain an
artificially high price for the raw material in Germany,
which would be damaging to the export interests
of the German machine industry. The latter’s secret
acquiescence was purchased by promising them
certain consolation payments for the materials used
in the execution of export orders. I strongly opposed

226

Tears in the Reichstas

such dumping on foreign markets and accused the
government of ha\dng joined in a conspiracy to
transform the tariff on steel and iron into a '' cartel
revenue ” ! Something was wrong in the nation
if private business was to be permitted to rule the
government !

Although later developments proved my accusa¬
tions to be justified, the government of the profiteers
did not divulge any of the \dtal information to the
house. My political colleagues, aware that this was
a decisive phase in German history^, felt impelled to
do their utmost to prevent the republic from launch¬
ing on a disastrous new course. This course consisted
of an attempt to transform a social republic into
one dominated by economic royalists. The alliance
between the barons of the wheat fields and those
of steel, each group granting the other economic
privileges at the expense of the masses, promised
to be translated, once the moment seemed opportune,
into pohtical power far superior to the number of
people these two groups represented. Of course, we
still believed in human reason and therefore ma rie
every effort by argument and a sober, well-docu¬
mented presentation of facts to comince those of
our opponents who did not belong to either of the
conspiring groups. Every member of our parlia¬
mentary group was called on to collaborate. And
everyone did. Long before the discussion started, we
had appointed a special staff of research workers
to investigate the fundamentals of the problems
and to examine every aspect of the proposed new'
tarijBF.

My friend Dr. Rudolf Breitscheid was charged
227

Toni Sender

with organizing the work in the committee as far
as the tariff on industrial materials was concerned,
while the organization of the debate on all agricul¬
tural tariffs was entrusted to me. It was an excellent
collaboration. Breitscheid, a very tall, slender person,
of handsome and distinguished appearance, was the
chairman of our parliamentary group. He is highly
intelligent and was the best debater in the house.
Free from any false pride, he was a good comrade
and friend. For a political leader in a country
like Germany, however, he was somewhat too sen¬
sitive. In the tariff fight we both worked very hard
to organize our departments, meeting with great
zeal and co-operation from the other Socialists. We
saw to it that each deputy received all the necessary
information and documents pertaining to the aspect
of the tariff he was to discuss. It was feverish work,
but enthusiasm ran high. Not satisfied with the
material obtained by our research office, many of
our colleagues made thorough investigations for them¬
selves.

The small Democratic group and the Communists
supported our fight, and often we gave them our
research material. But even our combined efforts
could not bring about a real discussion. The parties
of the government coalition, the Nationalists, the
People’s party, and the Catholics, had made a pact
behind the scenes, and in order to carry it through
without a hitch their deputies were forbidden to enter
into discussion with us. They did not enjoy the right
to become convinced by our arguments ; they could
only follow blindly. C)nly government officials had
the sad task of defending the proposed tariff and

228

Tears in the Reichstag

of attempting to refute our arguments, a job at
which they were not too successful.

Many representatives of the government parties,
the more intelligent and more decent among them,
came to me during the debates to express their
appreciation of our objective and highly valuable
work and their regret that they came wdth their
hands bound. The coalition parties were in a great
hurry—they wanted to bring their harvest into the
barn before the Reichstag’s summer vacation began.
They therefore forced us to work intensely all day
and late into the night, they themselves meanwhile
remaining completely idle. They thus put such a
strain on us that many an evening when I came
home late I asked my brother to go with me to
Luna Park, an amusement centre in Berlin. There
I obtained a httle relaxation that enabled me to
resume the fight the next morning with fresh strength.
During the previous years a fine understanding had
developed between my brother and me. His political
views had become similar to mine and w-e spent
some infrequent free hours together.

: All our endeavours in the Reichstag to co.n\iiice
some of the coalition members of the injuriousness
of the bill proved to be without avail. Almost
nothing could be altered in the bill. WTiat did it
avail us that we had all the economists of repute
on our side ? So eager w’-ere the coalition parties
to gather the fruit of their pact that they curtailed
the right of free discussion in the plenary" session
and prevented us from arousing the much-needed
interest of the public. It was the first attack on
; parliamentarism in the German republic, and it

229 ft

Tofti Sender

was pushed by the same forces which were'later to
become the financiers of the fascist movement.

One man who then stood on our side later became
one of the most ardent Nazi aides, the originator of
regimented foreign trade and of barter agreements.
I refer to Dr. Hjalmar Schacht. He did not always
have his present contempt for Socialists and Jews.
I first met Mm towards the end of the inflation period.
Together with a Reichstag colleague, S. Aufhauser,
I was in\ited to the house of a German industrialist
for the specific purpose of meeting Schacht. He
was then an aspirant for the position of president
of the Reichsbank and he needed labour support.
In November, 1938, I read a speech this Hjalmar
Schacht made before the Nazi German Academy’s
Economic Council, a speech which Otto D. Tolischus
of the New York Times says was “ filled with ironic
references to the antiquated pre-war ideas dominating
the economic and trade policies of the United States
Immediately there became alive in my memory the
Hjalmar Schacht who in Germany’s democratic days
used eagerly to profess his loyalty to these anti¬
quated ideas Back in 1925 he did his best to
comdnce Herr Aufhauser and me of Ms deep demo¬
cratic convictions—without, however, making a favour¬
able impression on us. Neither of us w^as responsible
for the fact that his ambition was realized and that
he became president of the Reichsbank. During
those critical months of 1925 he still favoured re¬
ciprocal trade treaties and the most-favoured-nation
clause, the system of Secretary of State CordeU Hull,
wMch Schacht scoffs at now. Before Reichstag com¬
mittees, where I had asked to have him appear as

230

Tears in the Reichstag

an expert^ lie gave testimony in favour of this system.
Of course the Nazi was not yet influential in Ger¬
many. . . . However, even Dr. Schacht's spine has
not proved sufficiently flexible for Nazi purposes,
and now apparently he lias lost favour with Ms new
masters.

As long as democracy still ruled Germany, the
collaboration between men and women members of
the Reichstag was on the whole a satisfactory one.
Indeed we w^omen were supposed to deal, in the
first instance, with women’s problems and those
concerning the family, cMld care, and social legis¬
lation. There can be no doubt that in these fields
the German republic had the most progressive and
most elaborate legislation. That accomplishment must
be attributed to the intelligent and assiduous work
of women Reichstag members. I, however, cannot
take too much credit for it. Although I realized
that it was my duty to participate in the solution
.of these problems, my special interest w^as in the
economic field and in foreign affairs. Here it proved
to be much harder for a woman to attain recognition.
Nevertheless, I was appointed a member of the
economics committee and also of the committee on
foreign affairs and remained at those posts until
the end of the republic. I had sufficient opportunity
to collaborate in interesting and important le,gisiative
work because I was not afraid of intense work and
never came to a committee meeting unprepared.
Here oratorical gifts were a nuisance—^knowledge
and ability counted. Although I have no special
cause for complaint, I nevertheless sum up thus my
experience as a woman member of a parliament:

231

Toni Sender

A woman must make a greater effort, must show
more efficiency than a man in order to be recognized
as an equal. Once, however, her ability is recognized
and acknowledged, one can forget about difference
of sex.

Our parliamentary group frequently delegated me
to lead in debate, to answer and refute the arguments
of pre\ious speakers, cabinet ministers or Reichstag
members. It happened that I often clashed with
other deputies—but these clashes never led to per¬
sonal vilification or diminution of reciprocal respect.
On the contrar}?*, one gained respect for a colleague
who had a w^ell-founded opinion and one enjoyed
open debate which could be useful to both sides. It
often gave me pleasure and inspiration to talk pri¬
vately with the very witty and spirited Herr von
Raumer, a member of the People’s party, a capitalist
of the electric industry, and a man of great culture.
He had been for some time a cabinet minister and
had met with resistance in his own group. I like
to remember the many talks we had in the Reichstag
lobby and the sarcastic remarks of this intelligent
representative of capitalist interests. Although it
scarcely ever happened that we could agree, we
both gained from discussions that were kept on a
high level of objectivity.

A similar relationship existed with the Minister
of Labour, the Catholic Dr. Brauns. A Rhinelander
and a priest, qualities expressed in his rather cor¬
pulent but cheerful appearance, he was one of the
most able ministers of the republic. He lived through
many cabinets of the Centre as weU as of the Right,
and was often severely criticized by us. But in

232

Tears in the Reichstag

spite of his rather conservative political views, he was
a genuine friend of labour. And in personal talks
with me he revealed how he had been asked to
settle labour conflicts while the persons who had
approached him privately blamed him publicly for
doing so. The Cathohc m^embers of the Reichstag,
priests or laymen, certainly included the most witty
and gay companions, and this applies especially to
the Rhinelanders among them. The President of
the Reichstag for most of our repubhcan years was
the Socialist, Paul Lobe. From time to time he
arranged receptions in the president’s palace for
members of the house and well-known personalities
of the literary, diplomatic, and artistic world. The
Catholics generally were among the merriest of com¬
panions, inexhaustible in stories of “ Tunnes ”, a
legendary humorous character of Cologne.

But not all the guests of the president’s palace
were so easily amused. Paul Lobe’s worry was the
entertainment of President Paul von Hindenburg,
who attended a few of these evenings.

“ My dear friend,” Lobe would ask me, “ you
must help me again to-night. Will you be kin d
enough to entertain the old gentleman for half an
hour or so ? ”

Lobe w'as such a kindly, amiable host that it was
impossible to refuse him.

However, I objected : “ You know, Paul, I have
not had any military service. I was not in the
trenches during the war and am no devotee of himting.
And you know that that exhausts all possible topics
of conversation in this case.”

Nevertheless, I usually agreed. I assure you it
233

Toni Sender

was no easy job ! I remember one evening when
I was at my assignment and had discussed with the
President topics more interesting to him than to
me. Searching for more small talk, I tried to interest
him in my desire to take a trip around the world.
I told him of some ideas I had in mind and of the
exorbitant cost of such an enterprise.

“ Couldn’t you tell me a way to reahze that dream
without too much expense ? ” I asked President von
Hindenburg.

The old gentleman, in keeping with the jovial spirit
of the occasion, retorted :

“ Certainly I can. You go around the world with
a training ship of our navy.”

“ In what capacity could I go ? ” I was curious to
know.

“ In the rank of an ordinary seaman, Ldchtma-
iroseT he answered.

“ Would you have me freed of severe discipline,
and let me go on shore whenever I hked ? ”

That, however, was too much frivolity for the
President’s soldierly mind, and he replied :

“ No, you caimot possibly break disciphne ! ”

Laughter all around us. One of the Nationalist
deputies tried to take a snapshot of the old gentle¬
man sitting on a sofa Avith a woman Socialist.

In later years, of course, the President did not
attend any more of these evenings, and once Goring
had become President of the Reichstag, all social life
and entertainment were ended. To meet with people
of all creeds presupposes a degree of culture unknown
to Nazis.

Soon after the reunion of the two Socialist parties
234

Tears in the Reichstag

a programme committee was nominated to work out
a new party platform, adapted to the needs of the
new times without neglecting the genuine values of
the socialist philosophy. I became a member of
this committee and was made its secretary. That
gave me the task of formulating many of the para¬
graphs of the new programme, utilizing the results of
the preceding debates.

The hardest fight took place at the beginning of
our work when the general principles of the plat¬
form w^^ere being discussed. Friedrich Stampfer, chief
editor of the Vorwarts^ together ^^vith Dr. Max 'Quarck,
former Reichstag member from Frankfurt, defended
with passion the point of \dew that, now that we
had a republic in Germany, only reformistic methods
had to be emisaged—the time for revolutionary
means had passed for good. I opposed them strongly
and was supported by Dr. Rudolf Hiiferding and
Dr. Adolf Braun. I argued :

If the social change can be accomplished by
peaceful reforms, everybody will ’welcome it. How¬
ever, this does not depend exclusively on our good
intention. Will the forces of reaction accept these
changes ? Or must we not also be prepared to see
them use 'violence in a counter-revolution to stop
progress, to suppress democracy, and forcC' us again
into revolutionary methods ? We have to be pre¬
pared for both eventualities—the reformist as wel as
the revolutionary—and show the youth that is ready
to follow us the resoluteness of our will to build a
new world."’

The fight w^nt on during several sessions and
finally both Stampfer and Dr. Quarck stayed away

235,

Toni Sender

from the committeCj whose majority sided with us.
J^ater it was to become plain that my concept was
only too thoroughly justified. However, practice did
not follow suit. We were victorious in the com¬
mittee—the other side won in practical politics, and
the nation had to pay the price for this discrepancy.

Since my youth it had been my belief that you can
understand life only when you know the world beyond
the borders of your own country. I never could
understand how anybody in a responsible position
could deal wth international problems without know¬
ing some of the more important foreign countries.
I made it a rule to travel abroad at least once a
year, sometimes more often. I admit my trips were
facilitated by invitations to lecture in many foreign
capitals. Thus I was not only the first German after
the war to address audiences in Flemish Belgium, but
also the first to address a large audience in Strasbourg
(Alsace) in the German language. It is superfluous
to say that I did it without any suggestion of nation¬
alist emphasis.

Having attended and served as an interpreter at
all meetings of the Socialist International, I had met
the delegate from the United States, Morris Hillquit,
and his wife. How could one help being captivated
by the charm of Morris Hillquit’s personality ! His
advice was highly appreciated in the International—
he belonged to the generation that had laid the
foundation of the International in pre-war days.
Although from his youth a citizen of the United
States, he was familiar with the European scene
and its leading personalities. Very young in appear-

236

Tears in. the Reichstag

ance, he had a lively interest in new artistic and
cultural achievements. When he asked me during
our meeting in Frankfurt, at the time of the inflation,
to come with him to the opera, he was greatly puzzled
and amused that so little American money could
purchase the very best seats. Of course, it was not
quite so easy and cheap for us Germans !

We met again almost every year and worked to¬
gether for an entire week at the convention of the
International in Marseilles in 1925, where we both
laboured hard in the committee on eastern problems.
The conferences lasted until midnight or later. Here
I learned even better to appreciate Morris Hillquit’s
brilliant mind, his clear logic, and his amiability
even in controversial discussion. In spite of many
bitter experiences he %vas an optimist; nothing was
further removed from his mind than the idea that
somebody could be vicious. He liked to see the
world good and beautiful. And when the ugly side
presented itself, he disposed of it with a fine sense
of humour and sarcasm. It was in Marseilles that
Morris Hillquit suggested I should come to the
United States the next year for a lecture tour. And
when the summer of 1926 approached, he renewed
his invitation. Towards the end of August there
seemed to be a breathing-speU from hard work, and
I decided to sail. Robert Dissman, with a delegation
of the Metal Workers International, had left a litde
earlier for a study trip in the United States and
Mexico.

From the very first day I set foot on the Aquiiania
I refused to speak a word of German. I had thought
I knew English rather well—^but no sooner had I

237

Toni Sender

arrived at the boat than I realized that I did not
know American at all. My former visits to England
had made me feel too safe, because there I had not
met any difficulty—now the week of the voyage
among Americans brought me to strange territory.
However, it was my good fortune that Americans
are such kind and patient people. They did then-
best to be helpful. In glowing sunshine the boat
entered New York Harbour. I can never forget how
deeply I was moved by the first sight of the skyline,
imposing and fabulous. IVhat a strange place this
must be !

Morris Hillquit received me at the head of a
warm reception committee. We had a short and
merry party, and very soon Morris took me to his
summer home in Avon on the Jersey shore. There
I spent a cheerful and pleasant fortnight—some¬
thing unusual after my long years of hurry and
excitement. Only now did I become aware of the
abnormal strain under which we had lived in Ger¬
many for what seemed an endless time. We had
entirely forgotten how to play, even the usually
cheerful Rhinelanders.

Morris did his best to make things as easy for me
as possible. He arranged meetings with the press
and with persons he thought I should meet, and
organized my lecture tour. What a different life
the American scene presented in those years of
prosperity, as compared with battle-tom and suffering
Germany ! How many times would Americans re¬
mark, jokingly, “ Don’t be so serious—don’t seek a
philosophy behind everything. Take it easy.” I
was glad to follow their advice. Those weeks in

238

Tears m the Reichstag

the United States were a healthy lesson for me. I
was given a splendid opportunity to grow somewhat
acquainted “with the land and its citizens. My
lecture tour took me through the East and the Middle
West. Deeply impressed by the fine hospitality of
AmericanSj their simplicity and frankness^ I did not
for long feel like a stranger. I did my best to study
the country and its people, but the more I travelled
the greater grew my amazement at those Europeans
who, after a brief \dsit, had returned home to write
learned books on their obser\*ations.

Nevertheless, I gained certain definite impressions.
What was then described as the American economic
miracle ’’ did not, at close sight, seem to me in every
respect so miraculous. x4bundance and security were
not universal. Nevertheless, I met many men of
importance who did not doubt the miracle. One of
the kindest and most helpful was Professor Jeremiah
W. Jenks, the economist, to whom I was introduced
by a professor of the University of Berlin. Among
the men to whom Professor Jenks and his gentle
wife introduced me was Malcolm C. Rorty of the
American Telephone and Telegraph Company. I
have not yet forgotten the very stimulating luncheon
conversation in which Colonel Rorty insisted that
the United States had discovered how to avoid busi¬
ness crises. He was convinced that prosperity would
last. His explanation was that the increasing indus¬
trial efficiency and the growing capacity of machinery^
developed an “ American wage system ’’ Avhich enabled
labour to keep pace with and to enjoy the growing
productivity. I expressed my doubts. I told him
that investigation during my trip had showm me

239

Toni Sender

that not all the workers, but rather only an upper
stratum of skilled men, were enjoying high wages.
Millions of labourers made only a moderate living,
not to speak of the remaining under-privileged, I
argued.

''I see a new disproportion between capacity of
production and consumptive power developing in
these United States,’’ I emphasized, '' and I do not
see that you have conquered the business cycle.”

The two gentlemen looked ironically at the scep¬
tical visitor who did not seem capable of understand¬
ing the new American way. . . . Three years later
the conversation would probably have taken a quite
different course.

Professor Jenks wanted me to meet a leading figure
of American big business, the president of the United
States Steel Corporation, Judge Elbert H. Gary. It
w^as a daring suggestion—^that the powerful head of
one of the biggest anti-union corporations meet a
German woman, a Socialist, and a trade unionist.
I sent Professor Jenks’s letter of introduction to
Judge Gary and received an immediate answer
suggesting an appointment. I accepted and went.
A polite young man received me, and we had a
long talk. After it had lasted some time, I realized
that he had probably been asked by Judge Gary
to find out whether I was worth the time that a
personal talk would entail. I told the young man
that I did not want to insist upon an interview with
the president. What I really wanted was permission
to visit the plants of the steel trust. We understood
each other—the young man went to report and soon
came back.

240

Tears in the Reichstag

“Judge Gary wants to see you.”

I entered the president’s office and found mysel
in front of a very tall, white-haired gentleman, who,
in spite of his advanced age, was of upright bearing,
Immediately we became engaged in a most interest¬
ing conversation. I was then well informed on the
steel industry and its development in Europe. I
told him what I knew of the growdng European steel
cartel and its mechanism. Naturally, I wanted him
also to know labour’s attitude towards the cartel
and tow^ards the industry in general. Judge Gary,
of course, did not beheve in genuine unions—what
he defended w^as the company union. But he listened
attentively when I told him of our trade union
experience and especially of the young shop stewnrd
movement. Our conversation lasted two hours, longer
than either of us had expected. While w-e were
talking, subordinates came in with messages, letters
to be signed or orders to be received. The old gentle¬
man handled them with an astonishing alertness and
always returned quickly to the point of our conver¬
sation. When I finally asked him for permission to
visit the plants of his corporation, he immediately
dictated letters of introduction to which he added
something to the effect that Miss Sender “has a
great future before her ”.

I felt I had imposed long enough on Judge Gary-’s
time and prepared to end the visit. Suddenly "he
asked me :

“ Will you permit me a last, very personal ques¬
tion ? You may answer it only if you care to do
so.”

I encouraged him to go on.

241

Toni Sender

“ Why,” he asked, “ didn’t a woman like you
marry ? ”

I was indeed embarrassed for a moment. But I
decided that since our conversation had been con¬
ducted in full frankness on both sides, I could satisfy
the old gentleman’s curiosity on this point also.

“ I tbinkj Judge Gary, that we have to make up
our minds as to the main task to which we want to
devote our lives. Very early I felt the urge to try to
give my full servdce to the cause of freedom and
social justice, to help bring about a better existence,
materially and culturally, for the under-privileged.
We live in a revolutionary period. Family ties could
eventually prevent one from showing all the courage
and unselfishness that a great cause requires—espe¬
cially in the case of a young woman. And since the
earhest days of my childhood I have been guided by
the poet’s words : ‘ Nichts halb zu tun ist edler Geister
Art’ (To do nothing half-way is the way of noble
minds).”

This conventional-minded titan of American busi¬
ness listened quietly and, it seemed to me, with under¬
standing, if not, perhaps, with approval. I think we
separated as friends, although a very strange friend¬
ship it was, each belonging to an entirely different
camp, pursuing such vastly different goals in life.

My first American trip, towards its end, was sad¬
dened by a terrible shock. Robert Dissmann had
come to America at approximately the same time
but with a trade union delegation. We had met at
the Detroit convention of the American Federation
of Labour. He had seemed to me somewhat changed,
quieter and reserved, no longer the merry Rhine-

242

Tears in the Reichstag

lander I had known. But never could I have thought
that it was to be our last meeting. Robert had left
for home before I was through with my lecture tour.
A few days later, I read in the xAmerican newspapers
that on his voyage back he had been stricken by a
heart attack which took him away. One of the most
colourful leaders of the German labour movement, the
most devoted I had met, a friend with the rarest
qualities anyone has to offer, gone in his forty-eighth
year, at the very prime of his life ! It was such a
painful, unforgettable loss. It was impossible to
enjoy again the gay days in New York.

Nevertheless, the idea occurred to me : Would
it not be better for me to live in the United States
for good? I liked the youth of the nation, the
friendliness of its inhabitants, the unlimited possi¬
bilities. I finally gave up the thought. It w'ould
mean desertion of a task and of the people who
trusted me. Once you have entered a movement
tied up with the plight of your people, you have
given up at least part of your right to personal
satisfaction. But when Morris and Vera HiUquit
accompanied me to the steamer that was to take
me back to my duty, I promised that I would return
to the New World. It was a promise that was
promptly kept—though it was only for a fortnight
that I visited the United States in the spring of 1927
and again in 1930.

I could never spare more time than that, for I had
become too deeply involved in exacting activity in
the Reichstag as well as outside. Since w'e had not
succeeded in defeating the new tariff, I attacked the
task from another point. My effort was directed

243

Toni Sender

towards breaking down the customs walls by reciprocal
trade treaties containing the most-favoured-nation
clause. Two parties, the Social Democrats and the
small Democratic group, supported that policy. The
Communists opposed trade treaties and voted against
them, with the exception of one with Russia, not¬
withstanding the fact that every pact lowered some
tariff frontiers. A few more far-sighted leaders among
the Catholics and the representatives of the People’s
party gave me their support.

Reading the debates that took place in the Reich¬
stag during the republic, I realize now that there was
hardly a single trade treaty before that body which
I did not either report on for the tariff committee or
defend before the house. The only exceptions were
those treaties of later years in which an attempt
was made to change the nature of the reciprocal
pacts by a tendency towards a number of autonomous
tariffs, tariffs that would not be reduced in treaties.
The Nazis, although represented on the tariff com¬
mittee, did not function there. They were opposed
to international trade, declared it a Jewish invention,
and were enthusiasts of autarchy. There can thus
be no doubt that their doctrine of self-sufficiency later
on was not forced upon them, but had always been
their economic ideal, corresponding as it did with
their exaggerated political nationalism. Each treaty
could be pushed through the house only after a fight
-—the extreme Left as well as the extreme Right
directing their attacks at me. Convinced of the
soundness of my position, I persistently fought my
way through. Encouragement came in the growth
of German exports from about nine billion marks in

244

. Tears in the Reichstag

1925 to thirteen and a half billion in 1929, giving
bread to millions of German workers and bringing
new economic welfare to the nation.

It is with a peculiar sentiment that I recall the
government representatives with whom I was in
closest collaboration while striving for these ends.
Among them/ for instance, was Dr. Karl Ritter,
then Ministerial Director of the Foreign Office and
an adherent of free trade—to-day he is in Nazi ser\dce.
He was ambassador to Brazil and was finally expelled
from that country for his Nazi acthities. Another
was the Ministerial Counsel of the Foreign Office,
Dr. Ernst Eisenlohr, a modest and apparently honest
officer of the republic, who later on was elevated by
the totalitarian state to the responsible post of ambas¬
sador in Prague. He was the man who delivered
Hitler’s demands and ultimatums to the late Czech
republic. How a man can be as devoted a seivant
to a barbaric dictatorship as to a civilized republic
goes beyond my understanding. Or are there really
human beings performing serious, responsible work
without any convictions of their own ?

Of course, it often happened that I met some diffi¬
culties in our own ranks. In certain cases the manu¬
facturers cleverly attempted to use the shop stewards
to further their profit interests or what they called
the common interest of employer and employee.
There was always the tendency of certain groups
in industry, faced with difficulties, to seek salvation
in the elimination of competition. They would
approach us with demands for higher tariffs.

The campaign of the automobile industry at one
point proved to be very effective. First, delegations

245 R

Toni Sender

of owners arrived. Then spokesmen from the “shop
councils visited me. Finally the issue came before
our parliamentary group. I convinced our members
without much difficulty that a prohibitive • tariff on
automobiles and automobile parts would only increase
the costs of the German car and reduce sales. What
we needed was not more protection but more ration¬
alization. We had far too many factories for the
German market—only modernization could help,
even if it meant temporary sacrifices on the part of
the workers. In the long run, rationalization and
reduction of the number of factories producing cheaper
cars would benefit the workers and the national
economy. Despite my arguments, the Metal Workers
Union had to cope with much dissatisfaction on the
part of members who felt themselves threatened with
unemployment as a consequence, so they were told
by their bosses, of lack’ of tariff protection. Wffien
the executive board of the union approached me, I
proposed that they call a national conference of the
shop stewards at which I would deliver a lecture on
“ how to save the automobile industry ’h I told
them I had confidence in our workers’ intelligence.
The conference was called. I gave the lecture, and
after ample discussion on a high plane, a motion to
reject the demands for prohibitive tariffs was unanim¬
ously adopted. I am, still proud of our workers when
I think of this testimony to their intelligent thinking ;
and I cannot help drawing from this incident some
conclusions on their present attitude towards the Nazi
economic system.

Shortly after I had returned from the United
States, some of my academic friends, among them

246

Tears in the Reichstag

especially Professor Julius Hirsch, insisted that I
ought to prepare for an academic career. I liked
the idea. To take part in such work had been my
desire ever since I had left my parents. But how to
find the time to study for university entrance examina¬
tions ? Professor Hirsch declared : “ You can present
yourself at the Prussian Ministry of Education for
the examinations given to especially gifted persom.
Send the ministry some of your scientific articles in
magazines, and I am sure you will be admitted to
the examinations.”

“ But how can I find the time to prepare for the
written and oral tests ? ” I asked.

“ You don’t need preparation—you wffl pass.”

I entered on the adventure without telling anybody
about it. It would be too humiliating if I failed
a member of the Reichstag not being admitted to a
university !

I sent my writings to the ministry and was accepted.
Dates were set for two written examinations ; the
two days happened to coincide with very important
roll-call votes in the Reichstag, which I could not
possibly miss. At two o’clock I started writing at
four o’clock I had to be in the Reichstag. And I
was there on time each day. The long experience
in hasty parliamentary work and as a journalist had
been good training. When I learned that one of the
professors who were to give the oral examination was
Anton Herkner, I was frightened. A short time
before I had written a series of articles criticizing the
very famous professor’s latest book. But Professor
Herkner proved to be the kindest examiner I could
have desired. He asked a long series of questions on

247

Toni Sender

the lines of my writings and parliamentary work^
and I was happy to be able to answer them to his
apparent satisfaction. I still think I owe it to him
that I passed^ for my achievements in other matters
were less satisfactory.

Now I was a university student. I was not too
regular in my attendance in the lecture halls of my

alma mater but I was a constant visitor in the
Reichstag library, and I tried to use every spare
moment for study. My Reichstag friends, when they
learned about my venture after it was over, scolded
me because they thought I had taken too great a
chance. What a delight it would have been to my
political enemies if I had failed ! My friends may
have been right—^but I had succeeded in my initial
tests.

Alas—professional and political work did not
decrease in the days that followed. I had to go on
working until late at night, travelling to those cities,
many outside my constituency, where I could help.
We in Dresden also had much educational activity in
which I had to do my share. Nobody was surprised
when I suffered a reappearance of tuberculosis in the
winter of 1927. Again I found myself on the magic
mountain at Davos. This time my illness was over¬
come faster. The three months I had to spend there
passed quickly in the company of the sick German
poet Klabund, author of Peter the Greats who was very
seriously affected and not much later was to pass
away. How this highly gifted man, with the appear¬
ance of a university student, loved life and liked to
dance ! It was as if he wanted to enjoy life quickly :
since it would not last long. That winter the Alsatian

248

Tears in the Rekhtag

writer, Rene ScHckeie, spent the wiiter in Davos
fighting a nervous condition. The Swiss poet. Rudolf
Utzinger, used to join us in the Kursaal Cafe during
the sunny morning hours when we were permitted
to go outdoors.

It was good that I had had some rest, for the new
year was to add a new burden. The Socialist move¬
ment had since 1924 published an illustrated maga¬
zine for women of the labouring and middle classes
called Frauenwelt, The idea behind the periodical
was that women, having won the right to vote,
should be given an opportunity to acquire some
political and general culture. But there are many
hard-working housewives who dislike the daily news¬
papers. They are not familiar with politics nor
very much interested. We felt, how'Cver, that they
would read a publication dealing with their daily
problems and offering also a glimpse of some of the
beautiful things of life, especially if such a magazine
had an attractive, artistic appearance. A man.
Dr. L., had been made the editor of the paper. After
a promising beginning, how^ever, the enterprise started
to go dowmhill. Many complaints from w^omen’s
organizations appeared, and it w^as felt that the project
could be saved only by a fundamental change in the
editorial management. The party discussed the
problem for months but could not agree on a new
editor.

One day the two presidents of the party, Hermann
Mtiller and Otto Weis, came to me for a talk, during
which they asked me to become the managing editor
of Ffduenwelt, They said they knew I was a person
.'.with .strong political interests and convictions, but

249

Toni Sender

they thought me also capable of speaking the language
of the average small-town and village woman.

“ I know,” Hermann Muller said, “ that you would
not use this organ as a mouthpiece for your personal
political tendencies but make it the magazine of ail
the women who want information and entertainment
in a pleasant form.”

“ I cannot answer you immediately,” I replied.
“ We have disagreed on many tactical and other
problems in the past. And I want to maintain my
independence in the future. You do not expect me
to stop my opposition if you give me the job ? It
may happen that I would become even more out¬
spoken in order to satisfy my conscience.”

My intellectual freedom would remain untouched,
both men replied; and I felt they would keep their
word.

After a few weeks of reflection I accepted the new
task—not an easy one, because the paper was run
down and had no reputation. But it gave me lots of
fun. Before I accepted, I had made certain that I
would be granted a budget enabling me to employ
the best writers and artists as my collaborators.
Since we had the best printing plant working for us,
I undertook to give the paper a completely new
format. Now I could and did revel in the presenta¬
tion of my beloved French artists, but without
neglecting young German artists and writers and the
talents of other nations. Although it was my first
experience of the kind, the magazine picked up again.
I received no complaint whatsoever -until the end—
when the Nazis in 1933 took their revenge and
suppressed an organ of education for which the Third

250

Tears in the Reichstag

Reich had no use. If it was a successj I owe it to the
splendid assistance of an efficient secretary and to
the circle of excellent collaborators with whom a close
friendship had developed. Without this genuine
co-operation it would have been impossible for a
single person to publish a magazine expressing such
manifold interests. There w^as never any attempt by
the party executive to interfere in my work—they
gave me complete liberty.

A period in the life of the German republic when
the people were to enjoy a more normal 'life seemed
to have arrived. Economic conditions improved.
There was less restlessness. Many thought that the
basis of the republic had become safe. I remained
suspicious, knowing that the subversive forces of the
Right were only biding their time for a moment of
depression and despair. But for the time being
people worked and were confident. This balanced
state of mind profited the Social Democratic party in
the elections of May 20, 1928. It received 9,146,165
votes and 152 Reichstag. seats, as compared with
7,880,058 votes and 131 seats in 1924. The Nation¬
alists lost approximately 1,500,000 votes, while the
Nazis dropped from 908,087 to 809,541. The Com¬
munists added some 440,000 to their 1924 total of
2,708,176. It was an impressive \dctory for the
Social Democrats, who had become the strongest
Reichstag group. They had to accept their responsi¬
bility and form the new government in coalition with
other parties.

Hermann Muller for the second time became
prime minister—^he had been at the head of the
' government that signed the Versailles Treaty. Muller

251

Toni Sender

was a hard-working man with a strong sense ^ of
responsibility and an almost exaggerated objectivity.
Witty and humorous in private, he was sober in his
political acthity. I think he was not sufficiently a
fighter. But one could not find a more chivalrous
companion—I had experienced this myself. At a
time of acute controversy in the labour movement
I had been asked by a constituency in Saxony to
come to a convention to debate with Muller. Not
only did we have a debate on a very high level, though
both of us vigorously defended our points of view,
but Muller was chivalrous enough to offer me the
last word, to which I was not entitled.

Muller had a hard job as head of the new govern¬
ment, although he had in Gustav Stresemarm a
loyal collaborator. Stresemann’s party, the People’s
party, however, co-operated only reluctantly with the
Socialists and were merely waiting for the propitious
moment to swing back to the right. Similar ten¬
dencies were prevalent among the strong right wing
of the Catholics. This made the life of the govern¬
ment precarious from the very beginning.

Nevertheless, we were not prepared for any dis¬
agreeable surprises when in August, 1928, we went
to the International Sociahst Congress in Brussels.
After the convention many of the delegates pthered at
a party in the house of the Belgian Socialist, Senator
Albert Frangois. Suddenly a journahst came to me :■
“ I have just received news that the German govern¬
ment has voted to start building armoured cruiser
No. I,” he said. “ The vote was unanimous.”

I was amazed and furious. Of course, the credits
for this cruiser, which was to be the first of a series

252

Tears in the Reichstag

of warships permitted by the Versailles Treaty, had
been voted by a majority of the Right and over the
opposition of the labour vote. The cabinet’s decision
was only the execution of this vote. But how could
the Socialist ministers take a different attitude from
that which they had taken as Reichstag members in
the opposition ! I considered their stand an exagger¬
ated conception of the duty of cabinet ministers, and
a serious mistake. Had they forgotten that in the
last campaign we had sounded the slogan that the
government of the Right preferred the armoured
cruiser to free meals for needy children ? The
parties of the Right had curtailed the credits for needy
children while voting the expenditure for the cruiser.
Our members and voters expected us to stand by our
election promises.

I immediately talked the situation over with my
colleague, S. Aufhauser, a member of the Reichstag
and the president of the Business and Professional
Workers’ Union, v>^ho was present at the reception.
On our trip back to Germany wc wrote an article
and an appeal to our membership, disapproving the
government’s attitude and maintaining the party’s
former viewpoint. We both signed this declaration
and asked the party’s central newspaper, the Berlin
Vorwdris, to publish it, which it did. It had a good
effect—restoring somewhat the shaken confidence of
the masses. The Socialist ^ministers’ vote was a serious
' psychological error—and the psychological effect was
often underestimated by our ministers. We who had
opposed building armoured cruisers certainly were
..for.general disarmament, but we also were aware
...that, as long as the Allied nations refused to keep

253

Toni Sender

their promise to follow German disarmament with
their own, Germany could not be left entirely un¬
protected. This cruiser, however, had become a
kind of symbol in the eyes of our followers. And
for a people like the Germans, easily susceptible
to emotional appeal, symbols can take on a real
importance.

As far as possible the mistake was repaired when
our parliamentary group moved in the Reichstag to
halt construction of the cruiser and aU our ministers
voted with our members. As a step further to clarify
the party’s position towards the military problem, a
special committee was appointed to work out a
precise military programme. I was made a member
of this committee, the only woman on it. My view¬
point, which I defended in the committee, was this :
Germany’s geographical and political position should
lead her to be the champion of general, internation¬
ally controlled disarmament. However, as long as
the Allied nations could not be made to disarm as
they had forced Germany to do, as long as aggres¬
sive states presented a permanent military and social
threat, we could not make democratic Germany
completely defenceless. Our influence should be
used in the international field to put into practice
the ideals of international solidarity and security.
Meantime, it must be our task on the national field
to make the army a better instrument for democracy
and the officers’ corps a more reliable body for the
republic.

During the same year that the party convention
decided on its new defence programme, a serious
attempt was made to find a more constructive solu-

254

Tears in the Reichstag

tion for the difiiculties of German agriculture. The
farmers had begun to realize that a permanent raising
of tariff walls was not bringing the help they had
expected. The government decided to appoint a
committee of experts to find a new way out of the
difficulty. I was made a member of that committee
—again the only w^oman on it. Most of the meinbers
were agricultural theoreticians or practitioners. The
research and debate turned to the creation of a grain
monopoly. I considered it my task to watch over
the interest of the small farmer and the consumer,
while a majority on the committee seemed more
concerned with the plight of the big wheat- and
rye-producing estates.

The work was complicated by the desire of some
of us not to violate any existing trade treaty, and
also to try to reconcile producer and consumer
interests. , For weeks we met all day and the,,, dis¬
cussions lasted until late at night. Some of the
representatives of the stronger sex, when the night
hours approached, felt tired and unable to make any
further efforts. I had the impression of being the
lonely guardian of the general and the co,iisiii2iers*
interest, and I had to keep alert until the end. I
succeeded—never was iveary before the sitting was
over—because during my actmty in public life I had
always imposed self-discipline upon myself, not wasting
time at night in cafes or clubs. That, of course, did
not mean that „ I lived like an ascetic. I did not
disdain to use a short pause during the Reichstag
session to go with Professor X of the Economic party
to a near-by dance hall and there relax for half an
hour while" dancing. Such an incident, how^ever,

255

Toni Sender

was rather the exception—generally members of the
parties kept away from each other and met socially
only at the official Speaker’s receptions.

The experts’ committee, although nearing a com¬
mon understanding, finally was prevented from work¬
ing out its programme—political influences did not
want us to propose an organization for grain produc¬
tion and trade. I did not insist further, doubting
whether the small farmers’ welfare could be taken
care of adequately in view of the strong influence of
the big estate owners.

At least one pleasant experience interrupted my
hard work during the cabinet of Hermann Muller.
The big airship Graf Zeppelin was to take a trip to
the Orient and upon the suggestion of the Minister
of Transport, Herr von Guerard, Captain Hugo
Eckener invited me as a guest of the ministry. It
was early in spring, 1929, and it turned out to be the
most wonderful travelling experience of my life. A
mixed company met in the big, ghostly-looking
Zeppelin hall in Friedrichshafen. All were deeply
moved and united by expectations of a great common
experience. In less than four days we should visit
three continents and be back again. Gliding smoothly,
the giant inspired confidence, and one hardly cared
to retire for sleep for fear of missing some interesting
view when the ship flew over France, Italy, Greece,
Egypt, and Palestine and then to the Dead Sea. It
was a solemn moment when the airship dipped
below sea-level. We looked at the dark Dead Sea,
fabulously lighted by a shiny golden moon, and, with
Hugo Eckener, we all clinked glasses filled with
Palestine wine. We drank to peace and under-

256

Tears in the Reichstag

standing among the nations. . . . What has since
become of this messenger of peace !

During this period the question of German repara¬
tions again became acute. The payments under the
Dawes Plan were to amount to 2,500 million marks a
year beginning with September, 1928. The function¬
ing of the Dawes Plan had been made possible largely
by foreign loans, both official and private. But these
could not go on indefinitely. A new committee of
experts had worked out the Young Plan, named
after its American chairman, Owen D. Young. It
fixed definite annuities for a duration of fifty-nine
years. All foreign control was abolished. Although
it still presented a much too heav)" burden, the Young
Plan was an important improvement over the Dawes
Plan. However, the patriotism of the Right appar¬
ently was weaker than its desire to strengthen its
party influence. Therefore, the Right demanded a
plebiscite on the Young Plan. Of course, it lost.
The great majority of the German people was then
still cool-headed enough to recognize that the defeat
of the Young Plan meant continuation of the much
less favourable Dawes Plan.

Meanwhile, Alfred Hugenberg had replaced Count
Westarp as leader of the German Nationalists. Hugen¬
berg was a former director of the Kxupp munitions
factory and later became a successful businessman
who to a large extent financed the German National¬
ist party. With the help of Hugo Stinnes he had
organized the advertising agency Telegraphen-Union.
He succeeded in bringing under his influence,
especially with the beginning of the new economic

25,7

Toni Sender

crisis, an endless number of provincial newspapers.
To increase his influence, he also acquired the
greatest German film enterprise, the U.F.A. His
extensive business power made an army of men
subservient to him.

I met Alfred Hugenberg very^ often in the Reich¬
stag. I heard him speak and I never could under¬
stand how such a poor speaker, a man with so little
personality or alertness, revealing no signs whatso¬
ever of a brilliant mind, could exercise such great
influence. I can only explain it by his great economic
power, enabhng him to control thousands of jobs.

The plebiscite on the Young Plan was the first
common enterprise of the Hugenberg and Hitler
parties. It was to become significant for Germany’s
future. Be it said here : Hugenberg and his party
are responsible for Germany’s descent into barbarism.
They gave the rise of Hitler the outward signs of
legality. Their support helped to bring the Nazi
camp its necessary finances. Hugenberg introduced
the Nazis to the respectable world.

For weeks, in the combined committees on foreign
affairs and the budget, we had discussed laws for the
execution of the Young Plan. I took an active part
in this work, and to any objective judge who had
studied the complicated matter there could be no
doubt that the Young Plan meant important progress.
However, all progress was too slow—it was not yet
understood internationally that in the interest of
world peace the young republic needed some out¬
standing success.

Instead of that there was new humiliation in store.
When the Minister of Finance, Dr. Rudolph Hilferd-

258

Tears in the Reichstag

iiig, presented to the Reichstag his prograninie of
new taxes and loans to stabilize the budget, the agent
for the Reparations Commission came forward with
a declaration that new lo2tns could be floated only
with his consent, which he would not grant with¬
out Dr. Schacht’s acquiescence. The government
was thus forced by foreign interv-ention to submit
to the dictatorship of Dr, Schacht, who m,eanwhiie
had more and more developed into a voiuntar}’ agent
of the reaction and soon after of the Nazis.

The conflict between the forces of reaction and
liberalism came to the fore in the search for a solu¬
tion of the difficulties of the unemployment insur¬
ance system. The system was unprepared for such a
serious economic crisis as developed in 1929. It has
been widely argued that labour should have been
less intransigent in order to avoid a ministerial crisis
and the end of the Mtiller government. I think this
argument is vain. The crisis would have come
anyway. The conservatives and reactionaries had
gained the upper hand in all middle-class parties,
and there were no liberal parties in the Reichstag
with which labour could collaborate.

Hermann Muller’s overthrow cannot have been
unexpected ly the middle-class parties. If the defeat
of his cabinet had not been deliberate, it would not
have been possible to have another government im¬
mediately at hand. Such a government was quickly
„ organized, the Right coalition of Dr. Heinrich Briining,
The new cabinet shoxved itself from the very beginning
to be tainted with strong authoritarian tendencies ;
in his first declaration before the Reichstag Briining
said : This cabinet is formed to fulfil the necessary

259

Toni Sender

tasks in. the interest of the nation in the shortest time.

It will be the last attempt to find the solution with
this Reichstag.”

There was no reason to consider the Briining
cabinet the only possible government and to threaten
dissolution in case the house did not agree with it.
Other men and other combinations might have been
found. However, a new course had been charted,
and the palace of President Hindenburg became more
important than the Reichstag building. Soon the
era of intrigues was to start. It was the beginning
of government by decree. And when in the summer
of 1930 a majority of the Reichstag demanded can¬
cellation of these decrees, Briining simply announced
the dissolution of the Reichstag without any further
attempt to come to an understanding.

The elections of September 14, 1930, were a turning
point in German history. It was a stormy campaign

_^Nazis began to appear at my meetings. Without

the constant help of the republican militia, the
Reichsbanner, we would not have been able to
carry on our activity. They protected our gatherings,
prepared to answer violence with violence. Election
day brought a triumph for the Nazis. While the
Social Democrats lost only about half a million votes
(retaining 8,572,016), which the Communists gained,
the Hugenberg party of the German Nationalists lost
almost half of their voters to the Nazis, who jumped
from the 809,541 votes of two years before to 6,401,210.
They had been the beneficiaries of the losses of their
ally Hugenberg and had succeeded in mobilizing those
lower middle-class citizens who had never voted before.

A new era had begim—a disas trous era.

260

XI

THE NEW BARBARIANS APPEAR

The economics committee of the Reichstag was
meeting. We were engaged in a vigorous debate
over a government bill—the discussion had been
going on for some days. Suddenlvj in the midst of
the proceedings, the door opened and in came a man
whom nobody seemed to know. He sat down in
front of the chairman and immediately asked for the
floor.

■. The chairman, old Josef S., at whose side I was
sitting, whispered to me, “ Who is that man ? ”

I don’t know—never saw him before. I shall
inquire.”

I spoke to other members of the committee, but
no one knew him. Calling one of the Reichstag
marshals, I asked him to bring me the official
handbook with the names and photographs of all
members.

Meanwhile the stranger’s turn in the discussion
had come, and he started to speak. He did not seem
to know anything about the agenda nor the bill we
were discussing. I looked at old Josef; others looked
at me questioningly. Who is this chap ? Is he a
member of the house?

. . A member of the People’s party came to me.

261 s

Toni Sender

“ Do you think that man is sane ? I have never
heard such confused talk in all my life.”

“ You are right,” I replied ; “ I’d better warn our
chairman not to stop him. He might be dangerous.

For over an hour the man talked, ranting inco¬
herently. By that time, we all were sure we were
dealing with a madman. When the handbook finally
arrived, we looked into it and discovered that the
speaker was Gottfried Feder, a member of the Reichstag
and the author of the Nazi party programme ! (Herr
Feder is now in disgrace ; he made the fatal mistake
of taking his own programme seriously.)

The incident occurred long before the first great
Nazi electoral victory and has been almost forgotten.
However, it came back to my mind when the newly
elected Reichstag met for the first time on October
^ 3 ) 1930- The session started with an absurd farce.
The Nazi group, now' 107 strong, changed clothes in
the Reichstag cloakroom and marched into the plena^
session hall in brownshirt uniforms. The Nazi regalia
was prohibited during that period, but their Reichstag
members made use of their immunity in the house.
Outside, Nazi rowdies staged their first rehearsal of
window smashing, rioting, and destruction of Jewish
shops, caf&, and department stores.

When I entered the Reichstag hall, my eyes fell
immediately on the strange brownshirt group. This
was the elite of the “Aryan” race !—this noisy,
shouting, uniformed gang. I looked at their faces
carefully. The more I studied them, the more I was
terrified by what I saw ; so many men wdth the faces
of criminals and degenerates. What a degradation to
sit in the same place with such a gang ! Whoever

262

The New Barbarians Appear

glanced once at them had to be prepared for all the
crimes, all the cruelties, and perv'erse acts that were
to take place little more than two years later.

Most striking among them was the former lieu¬
tenant, Edmund Heines, with the hardened, brutish
features of a “ killer It was he who had announced
on posters during his campaign for the Reichstag ;

“ FOTg-murderer ^ Heines will speak.” Heines was one
of the men who were killed by order of Hitler in the
purge of June 30, 1934 ; but certainly not because
he was a murderer and abnormal—had he not always
prided himself on his acts of bestiality ?

It was shortly after this ominous beginning that
the former naval ofhcer, Hellmut KJotz, came to the
Reichstag to see members of the Left. Klotz had been
a member of the Nazi party, but had left it after
realizing all the mendacity and rottenness of the
movement. Klotz had made public letters witten by
Hitler’s intimate friend Captain Ernst Rohm reveal¬
ing Rohm’s perverted sexual life. Klotz had come to
the Reichstag that day to discuss further revelations.
When I left the plenary hall for a moment and went
to the lobby, a man was entering, moaning and
covered with blood. It was Captain Klotz. He had
been discovered and treacherously attacked by a mob
of Nazi Reichstag members led by Feme-murderer
Heines. When later the June purge came and Hitler
tried to sell the world the lie that he had^ had to
kill Rohm and Heines because of their immoral
lives, I remembered this scene in the Reichstag when
the Nazis almost murdered KJotz because he had

1 Member of the special execution gang of the Frre Corps, an illeg^
mili tary group ; those suspected of “ treason ” were killed without trial.

263

Toni Sender

made known the truth which the Fiihrer and his
gang wanted hidden.

After the September elections, the German tragedy
began. The parliamentary system could not function
normally any longer in a parliament where almost
half of the members were opposed to democracy. The
two strongest groups among these were the 107 Nazis
and the 77 Communists. Dr. Briining, although not
enjoying the positive confidence of the house, governed
by the tolerance of a majority. Most of the legis¬
lative work was accomplished by decree. We did our
best to maintain political discussion at a tolerable
level. And it was certainly to a great extent due to
the extraordinary skill of the Speaker, our fiiend
Paul Lobe, that this level could be maintained until

1932-

A few days after the opening of the Reichstag there
was a topic on the agenda on which I was appointed
by om: group to speak, for I had always dealt with
that question in committee. I was warned by some
colleagues not to risk provoking the strong Nazi
group so soon. A woman, a non-Aryan, and a Social
Democrat, I had to be prepared to encounter howhng
and derision.

“ All the more reason to speak,” I retorted ; “ we
cannot submit to Nazi standards.”

I had scarcely begun to talk when a hail of inter¬
ruptions—shouts, catcalls, laughter—came from the
Nazis. I retorted •with a violent attack on the rioters.
I bitterly denounced them, speaking only in their
direction. From surprise, certainly not from gal¬
lantry on their part, my tactics proved successful.
The respect I had acquired among all the other

264

The Mem Barbarmns Appear

groups of the Reichstag contributed to this result,
although the new economic policies had taken a
course where I could no longer vote for or support
the government’s policy.

The Nazis were still only the opposition—but Nazi
economic ideas already were influencing the govern¬
ment’s decisions. The cabinet began to move away
from the idea of creating freer trade by reciprocal
trade treaties and the most-favoured-nation clause.
The idea of bilateral treaties began to gain ground.
Should I let things go on as the majority wished ?
.But this meant a fatal lowering of the standard of
living of the masses. I felt I had no right to acquiesce
in this. In many negotiatio.ns with the economic
expert of the Catholic group. Professor Friedrich
Dessauer, and in a number of conferences with
Chancellor Pruning of the same party, I did my best
to prevent disastrous and irrevocable decisions. Pro¬
fessor Dessauer agreed with me on a number of
fundamentals, and we could easily have reached an
understanding. But would President Hindenburg
sign a decree to which the agrarian parties and the
Right were opposed ? The lack of a normally func¬
tioning parliament was felt more and more as the
economic crisis became more acute and the number
of unemployed increased. Bold, new^ ideas were
needed. Instead, the government inaugurated a policy
of deflation.

Those of us who, as members of the Reichstag, had
to decide whether to continue tolerating the cabinet
of Dr. Briining, were faced with a terrible alternative.
To continue tolerating Dr. Briining demanded too
great a sacrifice from the labouring masses—but it also

265

Toni Sender

miglit mean maintaining the republican regime until
the depression had passed and improved economic
conditions could aid a return to a more normal
parliament. Overthrow of Dr. Briining presented
the risk of a still more dictatorial, more reactionary
government.

We thought, therefore, that we should first try
toleration. But when Dr. Briining came out with
decrees ordering hea\y wage cuts and big reductions
in relief and in appropriations for other social ser¬
vices, I felt I could no longer share responsibility for
this policy. The only justification of this toleration
could be the attempt to save democracy and the re¬
public. But who were the people who wanted and
supported the regime of democracy? In the first
instance, it was the labouring masses. Alienating them
by reducing their purchasing power and abrogating
hard-won laws protecting their working and social con¬
ditions constituted a direct threat to the existence of
the republic. Toleration of the Briining government,
therefore, lost whatever meaning it had possessed. I
fought for this point of view in our parliamentary
group, warning of serious losses in the next electoral
test and a weakening of the fighting spirit of our
members. But the majority—as so often happened—
was against me, and the policy of tolerating the cabinet
went on.

In these very difficult times it was most important
to keep in closest contact with the electorate. At
least once or twice a week I travelled to my constitu¬
ency and in public meetings I endeavoured to keep
our voters informed of what was happening and of
why I had voted as I had. Since the elections of

266

The Mew Barbarians Appear

September, 1930, I had had to fight mth the Nazis
at almost every one of my meetings. And in most
of the gatherings, the Communists too were present.
That led to some exciting experiences.

One Sunday afternoon I was to address a meeting
in a smal town near the Czech border. I had scarcely
entered the hail when I sensed that something would
happen. I saw a great number of Nazis present,
flaunting swastikas, and was told that a surpiisiiigly
large number of Communists had appeared as wdl.
During my speech I was interrupted often, but I suc¬
ceeded in completing what I had to say. When I was
through, a Communist took the floor, attacking me,
attacking the Weimar constitution and the l¥eimar
republic.

Away with this system ! he shouted. He was
followed by a Nazi. It was almost the same song :
“ Away with this regime ! When tliey were through,
I was given the floor to comment on the discussion.
I made a good start but a choir was organized,
composed of the tw^o groups. The Communists
shouted Red Front ” and the Nazis answered with

Heil Hitler ^’3 one of their leaders directing both
groups in the manner of a cheer leader at an American
football game ! Nazis and Kozis were collaborating
to shout down a Socialist woman ! I felt deeply
ashamed for the Communists.

It must not happen again. We will not have any
more meetings without well-organized protection by
our republican militia,” I told my friends in Dresden.
They agreed, and it did not happen again in my
constituency.

Soon after, I was asked to speak in Bischofswerda,
267

Toni Sender

an industrial town in Saxony. It was an icy-cold
winter night. Slowly the audience arrived. Then the
doors opened and in marched a formidable group of
young men, each adorned with the swastika. I was
pleased. Offence is the best defence, I thought.
Changing my topic somewhat, I delivered a well-
documented attack on National Socialism. My young
visitors, when I was through, seemed uncertain. I had
assured them that we offered them a free platform to
defend their ideas. They seemed embarrassed and
began to whisper among themselves. Meanwhile, the
Communists, as usual, had asked for the floor and
had started to attack me. While this was going on,
one young Nazi came up to me and brought me a
letter. It said : We are sorry—^we cannot discuss
with non-Aryans.’’ The letter was signed : German
National Socialist Labour Party—^local group, Bischofs-
werda.” After the discussion was through, I got up
to reply. I had just started, when the entire group
of young Nazis stood up and moved to leave the hall.

Pardon me, young men,” I interrupted my talk,
'' will you not wait a moment ? You have v^itten
me a letter and I want to give you an answer.”

They stopped marching, again seemingly embar¬
rassed. Then their leader stammered : “ I am sorry,
but we have to catch the last train.”

But we are in Bischofswerda, young men,” I
retorted. ‘‘ Why do you have to take a train ? Did
you not sign your letter : Local group, Bischofs¬
werda ’ ? ”

Still greater embarrassment. But they stayed there,
like good boys, and listened until I had finished.
Whether they missed their last train, I cannot say.

268

The Mew Barbarians Appear

Indeed, they were not from Bischofswerda, but were
students from a mining engineering academy at
Freiberg, another town of my constituency. The rest
of the audience had great fun that evening.

I had already forgotten that incident when I had to
address another Sunday meeting in my constituency.
To protect this meeting, a strong troop of the repub¬
lican militia had marched all the way from Bischofs¬
werda. Their presence proved not unnecessary. A
still bigger group of Nazis, some of them in brown-
shirt uniform, had appeared. This time, after I had
ended my talk, a young man with a swastika asked
for the floor. Hastily the leader of our republican
militia came up and whispered : “ Toni, this is the
same man that wrote you the letter at the Bischofs¬
werda meeting.” Excellent ! When the Nazis had
shouted long enough and the other speakers during
the discussion period had concluded, I told the gather¬
ing of the fun we had had in Bischofswerda a few
weeks before and asked the Nazi speaker if he ahvays
changed his principles so quickly. His race-religion
prohibited him from debating with a non-i.\ryan, I
reminded him. I had not changed my race. Had
he forgotten his dogma ? He did not know what to
answer, the poor fellow. They had only to obey
orders and not use their own brains.

But these sessions did not always end pleasantly.
Many times the Nazis started to riot, fighting and
throwing chairs and other objects until it required
an actual battle to put them out of the place.

It was my conviction that, although the Nazis were
a swamp plant product of the economic crisis, it was
not sufficient to combat them with police and negative

269

Toni Sender

measures. We had to prove to the electorate that
there was a way out of the depression and despair,
and must indicate that way. Together with my col¬
league, S. Aufhauser, I insisted in the Social Demo¬
cratic party that our experts must work out a con¬
structive programme on a solid economic basis and
translate it into popular language that could be under¬
stood by the common man. It took us a long time
to win acceptance of our idea. More time was needed
before the consent of the trade union movement was
obtained. The year 1932 had approached before this
programme was published under the title Socialist
Action. It proposed measures to overcome the crisis.
Unfortunately, it was not drawn up in language
popular enough to strike home among the masses. It
served, however, as a model for the Plan du travail
worked out in Belgium after Hitler came to power
which had a far-reaching effect on the Belgian political
scene.

Meanwhile the alliance between respectable society,
represented by the Nationalist party of Alfred Hugen-
berg, and the Nazis had become closer. Hugenberg
may have well understood how to become successful
in business, but in politics he made blunder after
blunder and did his best to lead his party and Germany
to disaster. In October, 1931, a great demonstrative
gathering at Harzburg, in the Harz mountains, united
Hugenberg’s party, the nationalist war veterans (the
Stahlhelm)^ and the agrarian Landbund y^ith the Nazi
party and Hitler’s brownshirts. General von Seeckt
and Dr. Schacht, as well as leaders of heavy industry,
were also in the new alliance. But the Nazis domin¬
ated the scene, and in a separate gathering of the

270

The Mew BaTbarians Appear

Nazi Reichstag group, they were impudent enough to
speak of the organizations allied with them as a dis¬
agreeable medley However, they said they would
later follow Mussolini’s example and get rid of them.
Again we saw the unholy alliance between Junker and
heavy industry—but this time the Nazis, in real
control, decided to betray all to whom they made
promises.

Soon after Harzburg, the labour movement made a
supreme attempt to strengthen its front. The conflict
between democracy, represented mainly by labour,
and the reaction, backed secretly by portions of the
army, was nearing a show-down, and we could enjoy

civil ” liberties only when we protected them by
our own forces. Democratic principles, not yet deeply
rooted in the nation’s thought, were challenged by
the militant forces of the totalitarian crew. That
was why labour unions, labour sport organizations,
and the republican militia united and organized
their special fighting detachments into the Iron
Front. The move awakened great hopes and new
courage. Alas ! it was not to prove its practical
fighting value in the decisive moment. Only in minor
skirmishes in and around meeting-places, and in guard¬
ing the People’s Houses and labour property from
Nazi attacks, did it prove useful. Though it showed
a courage that entitled it to more decisive tasks, it
never presented a united labour front. Dr. Breit-
scheid, the leader of the Socialist Reichstag group,
realizing the extreme seriousness of the hour, in a
great speech at a public meeting in Darmstadt, pro¬
posed to the Communists a cessation of the differences
that separated the two movements. He offered co-

271

Toni Sender

operation in the fight against Hitler’s fascism. The
next day, November i6, 1931, he received a sneering
answer in the Rote Fahne, the Communist newspaper
in Berlin : “ Our chief enemy is the Social Democratic
party ” !

Was the situation hopeless ? One could not help
getting this impression. How often in the plenary
hall of the Reichstag were we confronted with the
grotesque picture of the Nazi, Frick, in eager con¬
versation with the Communist, Torgler. They were
planning their tactics together. Through this com¬
bination, repeated amnesties were agreed upon—
usually with Nazis as the chief beneficiaries. Nazi
criminals, whenever they were sentenced to jail, felt
pretty sure that their detention would not last long.
The agreement on tactics also extended to the handing
of votes of no confidence in the Briining government.
To what constructive end could this collaboration
ever lead ? There was no possibility of the formation
of a new government by extreme Right and extreme
Left. Who could profit from chaos ? Certainly not
a disunited labour movement !

An attentive observer in the Reichstag could, in
those early years, make a useful study of Nazi methods
and techniques. The Nazi members not only were
uniformed but behaved like obedient soldiers. Al¬
though most of their leaders had been of age for
service during the World War, their type of patriot¬
ism had permitted them to stay behind the front. Dr.
Wilhelm Frick, their leader, now Minister of the
Interior, had remained an official in Pirmasens while
workers were sacrificing their lives on the battlefields.
Dr. Frick had a peculiar concept of duty anyway. As

272

The New Barbarians Appear

a high executive of the Munich police when the
Independent Social Democratic member of the
Bavarian diet, Gareis, was murdered, he had helped
the murderers escape across the border and had given
them counterfeit passports.

Alfred Rosenberg, the Nazi philosopher, a definitely
Slavic type, lived in the Baltic states during the war.
He was a Russian subject, and when I asked him during
a violent scene in the ‘ committee on foreign affairs,
“Where were you during the World War?’’ he
became pale and furious and said he would not answer
my question.

Goebbels, the dwarf with the clubfoot and the face
of a villain, who had studied with the financial help
of the Catholic Church, naturally was in a warm
home while workers were suffering and bleeding in
the dirt of the trenches. Nevertheless, he had the
insolence, in one of his speeches from the tribune of
the Reichstag, to point with his finger at the Socialist
group and to call it the “ party of the deserters
Protests came from all decent people present. White
with rage, our young, highly capable, and courageous
friend, Dr. Kurt Schumacher, asked for the floor.
Schumacher had fought for four years in the war.
Several times he had been seriously wounded. His
back was covered with scars, his right arm lost. He
went up to the tribune and in a short extemporaneous
speech showed the Nazis’ true face, declaring that
their success was due to their appeal to the meanest
instinct in the human being—“ Ihr habt an den inneren
Schweinehund im Menschen appelliert^\ or, in English,
You have appealed to the swinish instincts of the
human being.”

273

Toni Sender

How did the very frequent “ spontaneous out¬
breaks ” of the Nazi group in the Reichstag happen ?

I watched them carefully, observed especially Her¬
mann Goring, who had his special function : to repre¬
sent the upper middle classes in the Hitler movement.
He also made some efforts to appear better educated
than the mass of his party. However, observing him,

I recognized his method. I saw him on different
occasions secretly organizing his brownshirts for riots
during the sittings of the Reichstag. And when
disorder broke out, as prepared, he would stand at
the front of the group and pretend to quieten his friends
while actually he was inciting them. After his election
as Speaker of the Reichstag in 1932, he had an
opportunity to display the boasted culture of an
educated man. But the part he played then was
anything but glorious. Incapable of mastering a
turbulent assembly, his only means were threats of
violence.

“ Shut up or I shall have you expelled ”—that was
the sum. of Goring’s wisdom. When a complicated
vote was to be taken, he would ask the “ Marxist ” and
former working-man Paul Lobe, at that time vice-
president, to take the presidential chair.

These “ old fighters ” and “ tough guys ” as their
Fiihrer called them, did not for a moment deign to
perform any useful work in the Reichstag. What
they were ordered to do and what they had most
talent for was to prevent constructive parliamentary
labour in order to create the chaos which they hoped
would enable them to seize power.

Briining’s rheasures of deflation did not help to
overcome the crisis. On the contrary, unemployment

274

The New Barbarians Appear

increased and with it the desperate mood of the \4ctims.
Nevertheless, when, in March, 1932, at a moixient of
great excitement and restlessness, the presidential
elections came, the vote in the first poll showed only
30*1 per cent, of the electorate for Hitler, who was a
candidate, while Hindenbnrg obtained 49-6 per cent,
and Thalmann, the Communist candidate, 13 per
cent. In the second election Hindenburg received six
million votes more than Hitler—53 per cent, of the
electorate against 36 per cent, for Hitler and 10 per
cent, for Thalmann. It was an expression of the
extreme weakness of-the German republic that there
was a choice only between Hitler and Hindenburg
and that no other candidate had any chance of success.
But Hitler seemed to be defeated, and impro\dng
economic conditions might now lead to the complete
moral and political recovery of the German people.
But meanwhile all means of vicious intrigue were
put assiduously to work. Reichswehr generals, fore¬
most among them Schleicher, were active in Berlin,
while the Junkers did their part on the occasion of
Hindenburg’s visit to his East Prussian estate. By
these combined intrigues the scene was prepared for
Briining’s overthrow. The schemers worked the now
famous trick that led old Hindenburg to believe that
Briining was a Bolshevik. The President had forgotten
that it was primarily due to Briining’s efforts that ^ he
had been re-elected. He had been told that Briining
wanted to expropriate the Junkers. Behind ^ thk
accusation was the intention of one of Briining s
cabinet members to partition the heavily mortgaged
and practically bankrupt big Prussian estates. The
Junkers, accustomed to count for help on the govem-

275

Toni Sender

ment, pressed for a cabinet of their choice and sub¬
servient to their interest.

Bruning was dismissed by Hindenburg, and his
successor, von Papen, assembled a cabinet that was
hostile to the repubhc—a cabinet composed mostly of
members of the nobility. It was the pre-fascist era.
The year 1932 became the most stormy that the
republic had ever seen. It was a year with six elec¬
tions—all passions were let loose—our life became
almost like that in an insane asylum.

Von Papen’s cabinet from the very first day showed
its reactionary character. All social institutions were
attacked ; heavy new tax burdens were placed on the
labouring masses. This government in its first weeks
was supported by the Nazis. Von Papen had promised
them annulment of the prohibition on the wearing of
uniforms by private individuals which, although it
had been pronounced much too late, nevertheless had
hampered Nazi tactics. He had also pledged removal
of the Prussian coalition government and, once again,
dissolution of the Reichstag. He was naive enough to
expect the Nazis’ continued support after he had given
them all they wanted.

Removal of the ban on uniforms had an immediately
disastrous effect. Hundreds were killed by Nazis
during the following weeks, most of them workers
attacked while protecting meetings or labour property.
On July 20, 1932, the Prussian coalition government,
led by the Socialist, Otto Braun, was removed by
military force. The state of siege declared by von
Papen had transferred all executive powers from the
police to the Reichswehr. This act was obviously
illegal. Should the Prussian government and the

276

The Mew Barbariam Appear

Berlin police have resisted and appealed to the workers
to oppose the violation of the law ? I thought so, and
I still think it should have been done. But the Prussian
Minister of the , Interior, Karl Severing, declared to
the Reichstag group that, weighing the possibilities, he
felt that he had no right to sacrifice the lives of
_ thousands of workers in a probable fight with the
army. With all respect due to this humane considera¬
tion, I still think it would have been better for the
, German workers to risk their lives in a fight for freedom
than, to die miserably behind the Barbed wire of
concentration camps a few months later.

One serious objection to my attitude was voiced :
How can the workers fight when they are disunited ?
Had not the Communists but a short time before
combined with the Nazis in a referendum aiming at
the overthrow of the same Prussian cabinet that had
now been overthrown by the army ? Indeed, the
situation was as complicated as possible. The elec¬
toral campaign took place in a.n atmosphere of cNil
war. The republican militia was daily engaged in
hard and responsible duty. How, many of them gave
their lives is unknown. They had' often to march for
hours. Many of them vrere unemployed and under¬
nourished. But they were men of a high idealism,
and, I cannot think of them without a deep feeling of
gratitude and admiration.

It was during 1932 that , I had with Pro,fessor
Dessauer of the Catholic party a conversation wBich
turned from, our common parliamentary w^ork to
the general political situation. I w^as more than sur¬
prised when Professor Dessauer asked: “ Don*’t you
think, Frau Sender, it would be wiser th.at we, the

277 T

Toni Sender

Catholics^ take the Nazis into the cabinet and educate
them ?

‘^For God’s sakcj Professor, don’t make that mis¬
take ! ” I exclaimed. “ Educating the Nazis is
attempting an impossible task—they cannot be edu¬
cated. Haven’t you seen their faces ? There could
be no sanity in such a government. The Catholics
would not educate the Nazis ; the Nazis would throw
the Catholics out ! ”

Professor Dessauer was expressing an idea which
was also in the mind of Dr. Pruning—^it only proved
that they had not yet recognized the true nature of
Nazi fascism.

The elections of July, 1932, were elections by terror.
Uniformed Nazis appeared by thousands in the streets,
heavily armed. They were very young men, a great
number of them living in storm-troop barracks,
receiving food and shelter and a small wage. They
were encouraged by the attitude of the courts—the
judges were more intimidated than the rest of the
people and therefore very lenient towards Nazi de¬
fendants. In this atmosphere of murder and terror,
the Nazis more than doubled their Reichstag vote—
they won 36-9 per cent, of the electorate, the highest
straight party vote ever attained by them as long as
Germany was free to vote.

Immediately afterwards came the night of the long
knives ”, previously promised by the Nazis. It started
in East Prussia. Storm troopers threw bombs into the
houses of political opponents, broke into homes, and
shot men before the eyes of their wives. Dynamite
attacks on the houses of Socialists, Communists, and
middle-class opponents of the Nazis followed. One

278

The Mew Barbarians Appear

of tile most ghastly acts was cormnitteci in Potempaj
in Upper Silesia. Five heavily armed storm troopers
entered the house of an agricultural worker during
the night. They dragged the man out of his bed and,
before the eyes of his mother, jumped on him with
their heavy boots, until, his throat tom, he gave up
his life.

When the court could not avoid sentencing to death
the men who committed this ghastly bestiality, it was
Adolf Hitler who wired the murderers :

“ My comrades, I feel united with you in unlimited
fidelity.”

All that remained of a civilized world was appalled.

279

XII

ESCAPE FROM TERROR

This was the kind of opposition I had to deal with
in my meetings : During one of the campaigns of 1932
we organized a mass rally in Dresden’s biggest meeting
place, the Circus. Soon after I arrived, my eyes
began to burn painfully, and my mouth and nose felt
irritated. I suddenly felt sick. Nazis had appeared
to break up the meeting. They had brought with
them stink-bombs, which they threw from the
balconies around the speaker’s platform. I saw faint¬
ing men and women carried out on stretchers. But
they would not succeed, Otto Braun and I—^we were
to- be the speakers—said to ourselves. Our throats
badly affected, we summoned all our energy and made
our speeches.

Another time, when I came out of a hall to take
my car, the chauffeur told me : “All the tyres have
been cut. From now on we must watch the cars
during your talks.”

It was late in the night when I came out of another
meeting-place after a hard fight with the Nazis. One
of the policemen sent to watch the gathering asked to
see me alone.

“ I have just been informed that a Nazi motor-cycle
squad is waiting for you at the cross-roads outside the

280

Escape from Terror

village near the woods. I have been ordered to^ warn
you not to use that road on your way back,” he said.

We had to drive in the opposite direction to avoid
our would-be attackers.

My Berlin apartment was in Wilmersdorf, a middle-
class district made up largely of new buildings. On
every possible occasion all the apartments around mine
hoisted the swastika. The only red flag fluttered from
my windows—but not for very long, for the Nazis
would bring it down. I bought another one and
during the next election campaign it would again
anger the brownshirts of my neighbourhood. They
became more violent. Stones w^ere thrown through
my windows. From the summer of 1932 on, they
found another way to make life miserable for me. They
would call me up at any and all times of the night.
Posing as friends, they would try to get information
from me. I had, however, become veiy" careful, having
been' advised by informed persons that my telephone
wire was tapped, • It became a nerve-racking life.

• There were still other methods short of physical
attack that could be used by the type of people we
now had to deal with. The German Nationalists,.
Hugenberg’s party, published an election book of
c.aricatures and devoted a paragraph in it to me. .In
the introduction they asserted that I had sex appeal,
and then they wrote a parody on . the song Marlene
Dietrich ■ sang in her first film, The Blue Angel. The
parody w^ent:

Ich bin don Kopf zu Fusse
aiifs Centrum eingestellt
Das ist meine politische Halbwelt
und sonst gar nichts.

281

Toni Sender

I am from head to foot
In the Centrists’ bond.

That is my political demimonde.

And nothing else matters.

This parody was printed 'in newspapers through¬
out Europe and America. Of course, it became well
known in Germany.

All my political friends were indignant. The execu¬
tive of our parliamentary group decided that I had
to sue the editors of the book. My dear friend Otto
Landsberg, a lawyer and one of the most cultured
men I have ever met, took the case. He applied for
an injunction to halt further circulation of the publica¬
tion as injurious to my honour as a woman. The
appeal was turned down by the county court as well
as by the superior court. It was expecting too much
of our judges to think we could find justice at their
hands. These gentlemen saw the rising wave of
fascism and had themselves begun the process of
co-ordination.

It was not long afterwards that a number of people
informed me of a slander that was being systematically
spread against me by Nazis of my constituency. In
streets and public houses they were saying nothing
more nor less than that I was a prostitute. The story
went that I led an extravagant life, that I had a
number of expensive fur coats, but that when I went
to workers’ meetings I donned proletarian clothes.
The details varied somewhat, but the main feature,
that I was a prostitute, always reappeared. After
my recent experience with the courts I was not too
strongly inclined to sue the slanderers. It was a vain
hope to expect the noble justices to render justice to

282

. Escape from Terror

En anti-Nazi and defend the honour of a wonian.
However^ witnesses of the slander_j people w^ho were
not members of our party, but who respected me,
came to the party office and offered to testify in my
behalf in the event of a trial. The party office, there¬
fore, thought it was my duty to sue, feeling that the
courageous attitude of citizens ready to testif>^ against
the Nazis in a time when it was dangerous to do so
could not be ignored.

The trial came. Otto Landsberg again ivas my
lawyer. I could not be disappointed, having only
contempt for the majority of the judges. I was, how’-
ever, curious to see how they would handle the case
if our witnesses stuck to their testimony. And our
witnesses did remain firm and told wffiat they had
heard. But the Nazis, trusting to the judges" bias,
found an easy w^ay out. They sent three of their men
with orders to testify under oath that they had been
present at the conversation (wMch our witnesses denied)
and that they had heard my name mentioned but not
the incriminating remark. They insisted they would
have heard it had the remark been made. According
to all previous practice of the courts, positive assertions
cannot be refuted by negative ones. But in this case
the judges declared that the conflicting statements
cancelled each other, and they acquitted the defendant.
That the Nazis had committed perjuiy^ did not concern
the judges any more than did the honour of an anti-
Nazi woman. The only thing that seemed important
to them was the preservation of their jobs in the event
of a Nazi victory. Those who fought fascism in
Germany were outlawed long before the Nazis seized
power. We had to run the gauntlet and needed strong

283

Toni Sender

nerves, not only to meet the ruthlessness of Nazi
gangsters, but also on account of the cowardice of
those whose duty it was to ensure observance of the
law.

The Reichstag elected in July, 1932, did not survive
its first meeting. When it met on September 12
motions were presented to repeal the most anti-social
of the decrees published by the von Papen government.
Just at the moment this was being voted on, von
Papen presented the order signed by the President for
dissolution of the Reichstag. The reason given was
the fear that the Reichstag would cancel the decrees.
Such a cancellation, however, was the legal right of
the Reichstag, guaranteed by the constitution. Goring,
for the first time elected Speaker of the Reichstag,
pretended to protest in defence of democratic rights !
It was a real farce—the fascists, known as despisers
of the constitution, playing the role of its defenders !

I attended the meetings of the special committee
that exercised the rights of the Reichstag when that
body was not assembled and witnessed how the Nazis
attempted to defend the rights of the people’s repre¬
sentatives. They had no legal or technical knowledge,
were inexperienced and clumsy. They came to ask
Dr. Rudolf Breitscheid for advice. He replied with
sarcastic humour.

''Don’t you think,” he said, "that it is fortunate
your Ftihrer’s intention has not yet been carried
through ? He said before the Supreme Court in
Leipzig that heads would roll in the sand once he
assumed power. You could hardly get advice from
our heads if they were rolling in the sand.”

Why .were the Nazis suddenly opposed to new
. 284

Escape from Terror

elections, they who had always striven for dissolution
and new elections at the time of the worst depression,
hoping to profit from the chaos? Did they know
they were on the decline?

Another campaign had to be fought. We lost som,e
700,000 votes to the Communists, but the most sensa¬
tional fact of the election of November 6, 1932, was
that the Nazis lost two million votes. So it was not
an irresistible rise that gave power to these prophets of
violence ! Economic conditions had begun, although
slowly, to improve.

Shortly before the elections, the Nazis used spec¬
tacular tactics in their bid for labour votes. They
combined with the Communists in the leadership of a
strike on the Berlin city-owned transport system.
Although the workers’ poll had not resulted in the
majority needed for a strike, a walk-out was enforced
by violent means. I assume the employers were not
deceived by the Nazi attitude. I know of an earlier
strike in which the , metal workers apparently, had
Nazi support, which didn’t in the least alarm the
industrialists. A report which I received of a' secret
meeting of the industrialists of Saxony showed that
the Nazi leader had explained to them : “ Do not
misjudge our attitude. We Nazis intend to bring you
the workers and therefore must act in such a manner
as to win their confidence. Later you ^^411 have no
more trade unions, no more strikers. . .

Never was the standard of political morality so lo w in
Germany as when the so-called aristocrats ('“ Herrm ”)
headed the cabinet. As a consequence of intrigues,
.the , von Papen government was overthrown, and
General von Schleicher’s cabinet was born. And the

285

Toni Sender

general was thrown out by the very methods he had
used to gain office. Schleicher's programmcj it must
be admitted, gave proof of a greater understanding of
social needs. He restored some of labour’s rights, and
he refused to permit suppression of a tremendous
scandal. In this last short-lived legal Reichstag of
the republic, the Socialists uncovered great corruption
in the form of government credits given under the
title aid to the East ” (Osthilfe) to a small group of
Junkers, landowners whose poor management had led
to high indebtedness. Hermine, wife of the former
Kaiser, and influential reactionary political leaders
were among them» The Hindenburg family had
received no less than 620,000 marks !

The history of all the intrigues that followed has not
yet been completely revealed. However, that the
scandal of this corruption, covered up by the Nazis,
was the spring-board from which the fascists were to
jump into power is a historic fact. In the house of
the Cologne banker, Baron Kurt von Schroder, the
pact between Hitler and the President was sealed with
the help of the master intriguer, Franz von Papen.
By the end of January Adolf Hitler was Chancellor
of Germany—the man who two months before was in
a desperate mood because he saw himself faced with
failure. He had achieved his goal. He would now
show how fascists run elections.

Immediately he set out to lay the foundations for
a Nazi state. Almost every day a new high official was
driven from office and a died-in-the-wool Nazi put in
his place. A systematic transformation was going on
in the police power. I was highly alarmed. Would
we let them gradually but surely come into power

286

Escape from Terror

mAout any resistance by the workers? Impossible.
Why had we built the Iron Front, made all kinds of
preparations, if not to fight ? If we waited too lon<r

might be too late. A few days after Hider had
become Chancellor, I was working in my office at the
magazine Frauenwelt and decided to go up to the office
of the party executive, located in the same building,
to talk matters over with the party heads. I met onlv
comrade C. '

“ Comrade C.,” I told him, “ I think the time
has come to give an indication to the Iron Front
that we must resist the establishment of fascism in

Germany/’

“ In what way should the fight be started ? The
others have the arms.”

“ I know. But we have still one powerful weapon,
used successfully before—the general strike,” I
answered.

“ But Toni, what would be the immediate cause of
this strike—^with what slogan could we rally the
workers ? ”

Don’t you see that the Nazis are beginning to
penetrate all key positions of the state and the adminis¬
tration ? If we have any thought of resisting counter¬
revolution, this may be our last chance. Hider won’t
offer us an easy slogan—but the masses will imder-
stand.”

Comrade C. shook his head. He did not think the
right moment had arrived, and while we were still
talking. Professor Decker, a common fiiend, joined us.

“ Toni wants a general strike now,” Comrade C.
greeted Professor Decker. “ What do vou think of
it?”

287

Toni Sender

Decker did not commit himself—and I left gravely
concerned about further developments.

I had to leave for my constituency. Another elec¬
toral campaign, the first under Nazi rule, had started.
It seemed obvious that the Nazis could not obtain
a majority by legal means. Therefore we had to be
prepared for all kinds of surprises. They had their
chance now and would not let it be wrested from
them. I was asked by Socialists in many constituencies
outside my own to come and help them. I did as
much as I could. Of course, I would help my old
friends in Hamburg, in Bremen. All these meetings
were held despite threats by the Nazis, with the police
as a rule helping the fascists by notifying me that I
had no right to attack the government! An anti¬
fascist campaign without the right to criticize the
fascists in power ! But everywhere I met a fine
fighting spirit among the Socialist workers. My
impression was that they were only waiting for the
order from the central body of the movement to fight
for their rights and their freedom.

I decided to stop in Berlin for a few hours on my
way back to Dresden. I wanted to talk to the party
executive, to make sure that there was a decision to
fight before all was lost. I had not been in my
apartment more than a few minutes when my telephone
beU rang.

“ HeUo I ” the voice said. “ I wanted to know if
you were in—^if so I shall come. Please wait.”

“AH right. I shall wait for you.”

Although he had not given his name, I recognized
the voice of a good friend who until a short time
before had been a minister of state. He soon arrived.

288

Escape from Terror

_ “ I have only a few minutes,” he said at once. “ I
did not call you from my house. It would have been
too dangerous. I have important information for you.
An officer of the brownshirt army told me that your
name is on a black Ust with those of three oWr
persons [whom he named to me]. Something grave
will happen to you about March 5. I don’t know
whether before or after. At any rate, his ad\ice to
you is to vanish as quickly as possible.”

“ Thank you ever so much for this real friendship,”
I replied. “For the time being, however, I cannot
do anything but go on with the fight. As long as it
is still possible, I shall go back to my constituency.
I hope to see you again. If not, I shall never forget
your service to me.”

But before going back to Dresden I looked up the
president and Reichstag leader of om: party, Otto
Weis. He came to speak to me alone, as I had
requested.

“ Comrade Weis,” I said, “ you told me some time
ago that the labour movement had decided to fight
the decisive battle against fascism. I have been
around the cotmtry and have gained the impression
that the men of the Iron Front are waiting for your
orders. I know all the difficulties of the present hour.
I am aware of the fact that w'e haven’t the arms.
It may be that our fight will not end in victory—even
in that case it is better to be defeated in a battle than
to lose without a struggle. Should the labour move¬
ment be forced rmderground, we can appeal to the
workers only if we have first used whatever is left of
our power to prevent them from becoming enslaved.”

“ I know it, Toni. And take this word with you,”
289

Toni Sender

Weis repHed. “We shall fight—probably before
March 5.”

The answer encouraged me. It enabled me to go
on with the fight, to take new chances. I was con¬
vinced that Otto Weis meant what he said to me—
and I still think so. What the powers were that
prevented him from carrying out this intention I never
learned exactly. My impression is that at the decisive
moment the trade union leadership decided they
could not follow the party’s lead. And, of course,
the trade unions had to be the basis of any resistance.

Confident, I took the train for Dresden. For the
following Sunday we had planned a great open-air
rally in a stadium. It was cold and the ground was
covered with snow. But our Dresden labour move¬
ment was composed of tried, reliable men and women.
Never shall I forget the sight of those sixty-five thousand
standing in the snow on that cold Sunday afternoon.

I thought of my talk with Comrade Weis and spoke
to them, aware of the gravity of the moment, but
encouraging them for the struggle to come. Before
I began, a poHce officer had warned me to be “ care¬
ful ”. And during my short speech he stepped forward
several times to repeat his warning—^but I finished my
talk without disturbance.

The report of the meeting in next day’s Dresden
Nazi paper was menacing. The government of
Saxony was asked to muzzle me. But I went on
addressing my meetings. After the last speech of
Monday night, February 28 ,1 met in the main Dresden
station my friend Wilhelm Sander, the party’s district
secretary, and his wife. We were startled by a hews
flash : “ The Reichstag is in flames.” Our suspicion

290

Escape from Ter tor

Aat only the^ Nazis could be interested in bavin? the
Reichstag building burn down found confirmation in
the way the Nazis broadcast the news aU the following
day. They had shown that they would not hesitate
to take any criminal step.

In Dresden they pubhshed a paper called the
Judenspiegel (Jews’ Mirror). The entire first page was
covered with my picture and under it the text hinted
that I ought to be done away with.

The atmosphere around me became feverish.
Streets were crowded with heavily armed brown-
shirts, one, sometimes two, revolvers in their belts.
Some had hand grenades. Since almost everybody
knew me in Dresden to walk by myself through the
crowded streets became a venture. I went to the party-
office, and while I was discussing the situation with
Sander, one of our leading comrades arrived. Breath¬
lessly he asked : “ Have you seen the new leaflet the
Nazis are distributing about you ? It contains an open
threat of murder.”

Can you let me have one? ” I answered.

Meanwhile mass arrests had started in Berlin. One
after another of our Social Democratic newspapers
was prohibited—our Dresden paper, too, was sup¬
pressed. I continued to drive to my out-of-toivn meet¬
ings alone. The government of Saxony had been
forced to take storm troopers into the police force as
auxiharies. My meetings were protected by crowds of
policemen ; the government was aware of the danger
that threatened. But what odd protection, by police
interspersed with Nazis, my enemies ! When I was
through with a meeting in one \dllage the head of the
police came to pay his respects to what he said was

291

T'oni Sender

my courage. It was heartening to find support m such

a quarter. . . , t j

The campaign was nearing its end. I was warned

from many sides of the pogrom atmosphere created
around my name. I had always been aware of the
fact that a person in the political battle-front in revolu¬
tionary or counter-revolutionary times has to be
prepared to die an unnatural death. But I was think¬
ing of death in battle—not of treacherous murder.
And I still hoped, though faintly, for the last fight.

Every night I wondered that I was still alive. Storm
troopers tried to arrest me in Berhn, where it had
been announced through an error that I would speak
at a meeting. The ring around me began to grow

I remembered the offer of a good friend of mine, a

“ Whenever you are in great danger, he had told
me “ come to see me. I know every stone along the
Czech border. I shall help you. Count on me.”

With the help of my friends I managed to get to
the village. I entered the house of the friend ^he was
not in. He too had been compelled to flee. I did not
know his wife. Did she share her husband’s convic¬
tions ? Could I tell her what brought me to her at this
unusual hour ? After a short conversation, she said ;

“ You can tell me the purpose of your coming
you may have confidence in me.

I trusted her. After I told her, she replied .

I can do the job as well as my husband. Let us go
together. I shall be ready in a few minutes. Take off
your hat—we must travel off the roads, behind the
houses. You must dress like a native woman.

..202 ■

Escape from Terror

Together we started to leave the house. At that
moment a man came in.

“ Don’t be disturbed, I just wanted to ask you if
you know that the entire border is occupied by *^storm
troopers/’ he said.

, We had not known that. And he did not realize
how valuable was his inadvertent warning.

'' Take my arm and come with me/’ the woman
said. '' Don’t look around or they might recognize
you. Let us try to look absolutely innocent.”

Our hearts beat quickly as she cautiously led the
way. We skirted all main roads and avoided meeting
any people—too many knew me from my years of
campaigning in the district. Behind houses, through
paths and fields, over creeks we went, fearing to turn
our heads yet watching every movement, every
.shadow. Each minute became an hour. It seemed
as if our walking would never end. , . .

, We are in Czechoslovakia,” the comforting w-ords
finally came. She sensed that I was about to embrace
her.

; ''Nothing'of the kind,” she■ said in a low voice.
" They may.still see us, and I must go back to my
family across the border.”

She accompanied me to a farm-house where there
were Czech friends of hers. They helped me get a car
to take me to the next small to^wn. It was a painful
moment when I had to part from the fine, courageous
woman. I never shall forget her.

. Safe ! Free ! But is this Czechoslovakia—this town
with its many swastika flags and swastika emblems?

' The unbearable terrors seemed to have crossed the
frontier.

293

0

Toni Sender

A friend. Dr. Kurt Lowenstein, had preceded me.
I tried to trace him. He had been attacked by storm
troopers in his apartment in Berlin during the night,
had barricaded Hmself and his wife behind furniture
in their bedroom. Dozens of shots went through their
door—^but almost by a miracle they had escaped
unhurt. However, the storm troopers did not give up
their hunt. So he, too, and his brave wife, had to flee
for their lives.

What was our crime ? To have loved freedom too
much. But how could I help it ? Was not my entire
life a struggle for more liberty—^for social conditions
under which every individual could feel and satisfy
the need which alone makes us human ?

294

XIII

REDEDIGATION

I FOUND Kurt Lowenstein. We had to stay the few
remaining hours of the night in the village where we

had met. Since I was wthout Inggage, I had
awakened the suspicion of the porter in the little inn
and preferred to leave early the next morning. Both of
us had friends on the Czech side of the border. I
wanted to remain in direct contact with the workers
of Saxony in order to be ready immediately, should
the first sign of a fight develop. My goal, to reach the
border town, was not without danger. The trains we
took sometimes touched German soil, and we could
not inquire of the train employees, most of whom
spoke only the Czech language.

When I finally reached my fiiend, K., he at once
offered me asylum in his home. We immediately set
about establishing contact with Saxony.. One day we
would send a comrade to Germany, and the next day
one of their men or women would come to report to
us. We established the first news service firom the land
of the barbarians. ^

The cruelties practised were worse than a normal
imagination could conceive. The eyes of one of our
women filled with tears as she described how her
husband had been taken to the torture cellar of the

295 ,

Toni Sender

secret police and beaten until he was half dead. When
her love and courage finally brought him out of the
hands of the Gestapo, his physical suffering, and even
more his mental suffering, were so terrible that he
would no longer speak.

The people living in the neighbourhood of the
Dresden People’s House, stolen from us and used as
a house of torture by the secret police, complained
that they heard every night the cries and moaning of
the unfortunate victims of Nazi sadism.

For a brief while it seemed as though there would
be resistance—the shop stewards in my constituency
had met and deliberated and were ready to launch a
general strike if the trade union executive of Berlin
approved of it. The delegates sent to Berlin, however,
brought a negative answer, so that the movement was
stopped at its birth. There was too much discipline
in the German working classes.

The comradeship of the German-speaking Socialists
of the Sudetenland will be for ever memorable.
Frau K., with all the cares of her household on her
shoulders, seemed never to tire in spite of the fact
that her home became more crowded every day by an
increasing number of refugees and messengers from
the other side ; she always remained the friendly,
patient hostess. How badly rewarded was her rich
humanity, and that of many other friends. Five years
later, when the Nazis invaded the Sudetenland, there
was no friendly neighbour to give them a helping
hand. The Czech republic, which they had so bravely
supported, drove the fugitives back into the arms of
the invader.

In spite of Frau K.’s hospitality, I suffered a terrible
296

Rededicatmi

breakdown, physically and spiritually. I had a high
fever and was very weak—a relapse into my old
illness. However, I could not afford to lose my energy
at that point. I did not want my family, especially my
mother, to learn of my whereabouts. Only in this" way
could they in good conscience deny knowledge of my
whereabouts, should the Nazis interrogate them.

But physical suffering was easier to bear than the
breakdown of morale. Had all the efforts and sacrifices
of almost twenty years been in vain ? Was Germany
lost for ever to the civilized world ? Did this defeat
mean that violence is stronger than the mind and always
will be?

.. These doubts were torturing—^but a thorough ex¬
amination of them had to be made. However, after a
short time, comrades from over the border came to
tell us how courageous and steadfast was the spirit of
all those who had gone through the experience and
the schooling of our labour movement. They i¥0'uld
not become Nazis—they could be silenced for the
moment by means of an unparalleled terroiism, but
their convictions would remain deep and firm. They
felt that their day would come again. Maybe the
nation had first to go through hell, but out of that
terrible suffering, some day, a free nation wwld
emerge—not the strife-torn republic of Weimar, but a
free community, strongly rooted in a new social order.
At least these were the words of a young comrade
whom I met later at the border, one of the heroic
unknown soldiers of the underground movement.

So it had not been all in vain. The fight could stil!
go on. Not any longer in the country where I had
been born—but wherever in the world people are

297

Toni Sender

striving for social justice, genuine freedom, and
humanity, one may feel the atmosphere of a homeland.

My friends in Czechoslovakia offered me journalistic
work there. I decided, however, not to accept it—
for two reasons. One was the geography of the Czech
repubhc, in connection with Hitler’s programme as
expressed in Mein Kampf, and the second the expecta¬
tion that many more refugees would come to a land
where they could use their own German language.
Since I knew other languages, I could well wander
farther. My thought was Paris.

On my way to the French capital I stopped in
Belgium. I wanted to establish contact again with my
family. I was surprised and happy to meet my mother
at my sister’s house in Antwerp. She had come only
on a visit, not yet aware that it would become her
home.

I had scarcely arrived in Antwerp when my old
friend Willem Eekelers called me up. He wanted to
see me, wanted me to write for their daily newspaper,
the Volksgazet, to explain the strange events in Ger¬
many. Willem showed not only genuine understand¬
ing, but also true comradeship. It happened that
there was a vacancy in the editorial department of
the Volksgazet. He would propose me as an editorial
writer on foreign affairs. Sooner than I could have
expected, I was settled. I had to study the Flemish
language, spoken almost exclusively in this part of
Belgium. My colleagues on the paper received me in
a fine spirit, and especially the managing editor,
AdoLf Molter, proved to be a person of rare tact and
culture. I slowly recovered physically, and was kept
busy in my new task.

298

Rededication

Camille HuysmanSj the director of the paperj who
came in the early hours every morning to 'dictate Ms
columnj was at the same time mayor of the citv and
its member of the Chamber. I knew Hm well^ from
the many international conventions we had both
attended, and also from our national party conven¬
tions, to wMch he had been a fraternal delegate. He
is one of the most striking figures in the international
labour movement. Tall and very slender, he seems to
personify Mephistopheles, whom he loves, and to
whom he attributes many amiable qualities. Camille
loved by all the people of Ms city, including those
who do not vote for Mm, has very diversified interests
and has even tried Ms hand at writing plays. He
stood courageously throughout the wa.r for Ms con¬
victions as an internationalist, having been before
the war the secretary of the Second International. But
the outlaw of 1914 showed such strength of character
that he later became the respected Speaker of the
Belgian Chamber. Camille was almost always in good
humour, and he brought a cheerful spirit to our com¬
mon workroom. There was only one important
disagreement between us : Camille insisted that I
should marry, although I doubt whether Ms owm
philosophy would have prevented Mm firom enjoying
life without a licence.

..I.soon became active in the labour movement, con¬
ducted a study class for young women, and addressed
some public meetings in the Flemish language. How¬
ever, in spite of all the friendsMp shown, to me, I felt
very, lonely. What was more important, I d.oubted
whether it was a really useful life I was leading in
tMs „ Flemish city of small Belgium. It was like a step

299

Toni Sender

into freedom, into real life, when upon an invitation
from friends received in 1934, I could go on a three
months’ lecture tour to the United States, a tour that
carried me across the continent from coast to coast.
Another invitation reached me by the end of 1935. I
accepted gratefully, and this time I travelled through
most of the southern states. What a vast, wonderful,
young country !—the majority of its people open-
minded, less prejudiced than on the old continent,
and with a ready acceptance of fraternity that reflects
the best traditions of pioneer times. Would I not feel
much more at home here, and perhaps some day be
able to make my contribution to America?

When the lecture tour was over and I had to think
of going back to Belgium and to my position on the
newspaper there, I hesitated. Going back meant
security and proximity to Germany, with the possibility
of contact with old friends. But was it also a useful
life ? On the other hand, staying in, or rather
returning to, the United States also presented prob¬
lems. It would open to me the chance to become a
citizen of a free and democratic nation—to start life
anew and to render service to the new country of my
choice—^yet it would also mean a rather difficult
struggle for a livelihood. But I made up my mind—
far better a full, interesting life than economic
security !

One chapter of my life was closed. No, I would not
forget the German working classes ; I would always
feel very near to them as well as to the better, the
decent Germany. Should there at any moment arise
a movement against the gang that at present dis¬
honours the German people, should a revolutionary

300

Rededication

movement attempt to get rid of Nazism, and my friends
over there think my ser\ice useful for the cause, I
would not question for a moment my duty to rush
there and help them. That I shall ever desire to live
in that country again, I doubt. Too many people
looked on when depravity ruled. Of course, I under¬
stand German history better perhaps than many
Germans who .have never been outside their own
country and thus had no opportunity to compare their
own development with that of other nations. I, at
least, can discern what led up to the present, situation.

Revolutions in Germany have never been com¬
pleted—but counter-revolutions have been thorough,,
complete, and cruel The new Germany of the
republic never succeeded in abolishing completely the
old Prussian tradition of militarism as a political
power and the habit of blind discipline. The army
always remained, an independent body, unass,imilated
by republican institutions.

The republic, although it created a great number
of outstanding services, rights, and achievements, not
only did not understand how to make the people of
the nation conscious of these creations, but w-as too
prosaic, dreary, and rational; it did not arouse the
necessary enthusiasm for the new rights and the
newly gained democracy. It should have realized that
the German people had a particularly great need for
romanticism.

It must be said, in fairness to the German republican
leaders, that they were not given a fair chance by
the victorious democratic nations. Beginning with the
armistice and the peace treaty, with the treatment of
the republic after it signed the Versailles document,

, , 301

Toni Sender

with the permanent reprisals and the humiliations of
the young democracy, the pride of a nationally sensitive
people was badly hurt. Add to this the fact of the
republic’s disarmament while the promise to follow
it by the disarmament of the victor nations never was
kept.

All these conditions worked together during the
long, serious economic crisis to make a great number
of people doubt all values, past and present. It
resulted in their being caught by the exploiters of their
inferiority complex, who preached the religion of
nationalism.

Of course, these exploiters were helped by those
men and women of the middle classes who were
frightened by the idea of a change in the social order
and could see'in it only bolshevism. The masters of
big business and high finance supported the brown-
shirt army for the sake of preserving their own privi¬
leges. So great was the confidence of these men in the
reactionary attitude of the preachers of ■ the Nazi
creed that they did not mind the fact that, Nazi
fascism advertised its destructive tendency as a revolu¬
tionary force ; the industrialists and bankers were
convinced that the Nazis would save their social posi¬
tion and economic privileges. However, the Nazis
betrayed not only the small men, but to some extent
also the financiers. Private ownership of the means of
production still exists—but the owner of property
may not freely dispose of it. The state, as represented
by the ruling gang, has become almighty, controlling
not only all intellectual, religious, and social life, but
also all business activity. The once so proud property
owner may, for instance, no longer use his own judg-

302

Rededication

ment in the investment of the capital accumiilated
through his enterprise, but has to Mow the orders
of Hermann Goring and the dictators of the four-year
plan. ^ Everything is subordinated to the purpose of a
gigantic preparation for war.

Into this preparation for war fascism, forces other
European countries and also the entire world. F.ascisiii
has developed the tendency to become a world religion,
spreading propaganda all over the world with the
help of government finances. Democracy is chal¬
lenged over the entire globe. Will the era of freedom
come to an end ?

It must not be so. x 4 nd the United States may have
j the historic mission to set an example. Its vast land,

■ its rich natural resources, the youth of the country
and the open-mindedness and optimism of the people,
offer the statesmen of the nation ,an outstandiiig
opportunity—a c.hance to build up a well-functio,iiiiig
democracy, adapt the concepts inherited from the
. past, to the needs of o.ur present day, tliink over
the great ideals of democracy and bring them to life.
Political democracy not only is challenged but is in
, actual danger unless it is accompanied by the establish¬
ment of social justice.

However, the most far-sighted statesman cannot be
successful if we are not able to maintain weil-function-
ing 'democratic machinery. WTiat is it that makes
fascism attractive to some people ? First, that it is able
.to act quickly and efficiently; second, its apparent
unification of the nation. A closer exa,minatio,n5 how¬
ever, shows that fascist efficiency destroys all the
cultural and moral values of a nation, while its unifica¬
tion of the nation is only a unity in fear of terror.

303

Toni Sender

Democracy can challenge fascism by setting an example
of genuinely free institutions capable of rapid function¬
ing, especially in the emergencies that arise continually
in this period of modern industrialism. A democracy’s
institutions, therefore, have to be adapted constantly
to the needs of the time in order to maintain the
fundamentals of liberty.

Fortunately, the people of the United States are
less prejudiced and more open-minded than the peoples
of the old continent. They may, therefore, be able
to demonstrate the possibility of a free people’s
achieving greater unity on a number of broad issues
—a unity not only against those things we detest, like
war and fascism, but in favour of those institutions
which make possible a workable democracy.

However, there must be a well-informed public
opinion. Adult education cannot be considered a side¬
show of democracy ; it is not a luxury of extraordinary
times; it is a regular ingredient of democracy. A
healthy instinct of the people of America has made
many of them appreciate the need and value of a
well-informed public opinion. I know of no country
where open forums and discussion groups of all kinds
are so popular as there. Let the sophisticated European
smile at them—he may have ceased to be of great use
to us. And let us build on our fruitful beginning by
giving the youth of the nation a thorough education
for good citizenship and by developing further adult
education so that it may accomplish its function of
creating an alert, well-informed, intelligent public.

Hitler has deprived me of my citizenship and
property. It was the punishment for my love for
liberty. I was a woman without a country until I

304

Rededication

went to the United States. Here love for freedom is
an asset and not a liability. Bold and new ideas are
permitted: here it is still worth while to place your
modest capacity at the disposal of the common good.

^ Liberty is to me not only an indispensable element
of life, but also an obligation—an obligation to^vards
the community that grants me the piiiilege of be¬
coming one of its members. I thank America for
accepting me and giving me an opportunity to start
a new chapter of my life, a chapter that I ml! devote
to the cultivation of the ideals for which the best of
mankind has fought and died.

305 1